


We Used To Crash Like Waves

by closeyoureyez



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Tony, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, but no underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closeyoureyez/pseuds/closeyoureyez
Summary: Tony is a 27-year-old disgraced omega working as a nanny. His summer consists of taking the child in his care, Natasha, to the community pool.Alpha Steve Rogers is the 18-year-old, ridiculously attractive lifeguard of said pool.When Tony meets him, he feels like he’s been punched in the gut and his omega instincts immediately go haywire. But Steve is nearly ten years younger than him. And definitely out of his league. Plus, there’s the whole ‘he’s sworn off alphas’ thing.It doesn’t matter how blue Steve’s eyes are. Or how spectacular his muscles look, all wet and glistening, as he vaults out of the water. The two of them will never, ever happen.Steve, though…Steve’s got other ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by and is based on the book Taboo by Roxy Queen. I recommend it if you like light, hot, fun reads. I couldn’t get lifeguard Cap out of my head as I was reading it and this story was born.  
> I also changed a lot of Marvel’s canon (obviously), the ages of the characters, and some of their family ties. Nat, Bucky, and Bruce are all kids in this AU.

_“Every summer has a story.”_

* * *

“What’s the deal with the wagon?” Darcy Lewis lifted a brow in Tony Stark’s direction where he was escorting a seven-year-old Natasha Romanoff down the sidewalk via a red, Fisher-Price wagon. 10-year-old Bruce Banner trailed silently behind them, his nose in a book.

“I’m a mermaid,” the young girl said proudly. Her ‘mermaid tail’—a green pillowcase that she wore over her legs and had tied around her waist in an attempt to imitate fins—hung over the side of the wagon. “I can’t walk on land.” 

“Oh, so you’re a _mermaid_ now?” Darcy teased dryly. “Yesterday you said you were a Russian spy.”

“I’m still a spy!” Natasha insisted, her green eyes looking twice as large from behind her red pool goggles. “King Triton sent me here from Atlantica. I’m on a super-secret mission. Special Ops.”

Tony shared a look with Darcy. “Just go with it,” he instructed. “Do I regret letting her watch The Little Mermaid and Spy Kids five times in the same week? Possibly. But it’s too late to turn back now. At least she’s stopped trying to keep poisonous spiders as pets. I’ll take that as score one for the nanny.”

“Alright. Sure. Cool. Mermaid. Live your best life, kid,” Darcy agreed.

“I’m not a kid!” Natasha protested. “I’m an international woman of mystery.”

Tony had been employed as Natasha’s nanny for six months now, and while he wasn’t as bad with kids as he’d originally feared, it wasn’t exactly his dream job. His dream job wasn’t even on the table as a possibility. The harsh reality was that he was grateful to be employed at all. The job market was impossibly hard on omegas. For one thing, employers frequently refused to hire them (especially disgraced omegas like Tony), and for another, they weren’t allowed to receive any education beyond high school or make more than minimum wage. This, of course, forced too many omegas down less than favorable career paths in order to survive and kept them dependent on alphas and betas.

Lifting the heavy curtain of brown hair off her neck, Darcy fanned her face with her free hand. “It’s about time they opened the pool,” she remarked as they approached the aforementioned community center. “If this heat wave gets any worse, I’m going to spontaneously combust. Tell Jane to bury me with my record collection. And that I lied when I said I never read her journal.”

“I like the heat,” Tony lied. “I plan to sit poolside and work on my farmer’s tan.” Because he would not be taking his shirt off in public. No way. No how. He’d been self-conscious about the scar on his chest even _before_ Obie had oh-so-helpfully pointed out how unsightly it was.

“The movies always make summer look so magical,” Darcy complained, “but in reality, it’s a sweaty, lazy, boring, sticky, overrated mess filled with sunburns and melty ice cream. I want the magic I was promised. I want sun, sand, and starry nights that stretch into eternity. I want peace, love, and pineapples. I demand to feel young and free.” 

Tony snorted, suppressing a pang of longing at Darcy’s words. “…Right. Settle down, Oscar Wilde.” Young and free. Hah. What a joke. He hadn’t felt anything close to ‘young and free’ since he was 15 years old. Before he’d presented as an omega and his entire future had been taken away. “I don’t need magic. Boring and sweaty is fine with me. Iced coffee, however, is non-negotiable. Iced coffee is the hero summer deserves.”

“No one likes boring and sweaty. We’re more than just a couple of house omegas, Tones. We need to live a little. Seize the day.”

“I think you mean seas the day,” Tony deflected, trying to change the subject. “Get it? S-E-A?”

“Oh, I got it.” Darcy groaned. “Witness my not laughing.”

“You know what they say, sun’s out, puns out.”

“No one says that. Please stop.”

“Let’s tropic while it’s hot!”

“Oh god.”

* * *

“Alright. Do you remember the rules?” Tony rearranged Natasha’s crooked goggles, almost unable to believe that they’d finally reached their destination. They’d run into some trouble while trying to get inside the community center. Their wagon hadn’t been permitted on the pool deck, and Tony’d had quite the challenge convincing Nat that she couldn’t wear her ‘tail’ AKA her pillowcase in the water. The last thing he needed was for the girl to almost drown on his watch.

The outdoor pool was nicer than Tony had thought it’d be. It was well-maintained, fenced off, and surrounded by greenery. There was a slide, a diving board, and multiple ladders. The water was a sparkling blue and the deep end was sectioned off by rope dividers. There was also plenty of space on the pool deck for lounging around.

Natasha nodded. “No runnin’,” she ticked off on her little fingers. “No deep end, and no holdin’ the kids’ I don’t like heads under water.”

“Uh…what was that last one?” Darcy squinted.

“Don’t ask,” Tony said dryly. Nat was a sweet kid but she had a bit of a dark streak. Sometimes he felt like Darcy had an easier job than he did. Bruce was practically the perfect child – you know, if one conveniently forgot his tremendously destructive temper… _Nope. I have the better job._ To Nat he said, “Good. Now go play.”

Nat immediately dashed off.

“Hey!” Tony called after her. “What did I just say? No running! You’ll slip and—” His foot slid out from under him—it was just his luck that someone had left a flotation ring laying on the ground—and the next thing he knew, he was ungracefully tumbling to the floor. “Fall,” he finished pitifully. _Ow_.

“Nice wipeout,” Darcy said in her usually tactless way.

“Are you alright?” a deep, male voice asked.

It was the kind of voice that was easily distinguishable as belonging to an alpha. And even though there was no actual alpha command in it, it still made something prickle along Tony’s spine. He lifted his head and blanched, suddenly feeling like he’d been punched in the gut, or, since they were at the pool and swimming metaphors were more appropriate, like he was plummeting into the deep end and all the air had left his lungs.

Because he’d just literally fallen at the feet of the hottest man he’d ever seen.

The man was tall, tanned, and blond, with a physique that put most professional athletes to shame. His handsome face was chiseled in such a way that it could’ve inspired Michelangelo himself to rise from the grave to sculpt another statue (and apparently had Tony waxing poetic like a school girl). He looked somewhere around the age of 25 and was wearing red, white, and blue swim shorts, and a red muscle tank that read ‘Lifeguard.” A whistle hung around his neck. His eyes were a startling, clear blue, and he was looking down at Tony in concern.

Tony gaped, feeling like he was staring into the sun. Though that may have been because it was also shining directly into his eyes.

“Hey, buddy, are you alright?” the man repeated. He reached out a big hand as if to help Tony up, but Tony dodged it, scrambling to his feet.

“I-I…uh…” he stuttered. What was wrong with him? His heart was pounding and his entire body felt flushed. He wasn’t usually one to fawn over alphas. Okay, so they were big and muscly. What was so impressive about that? Most of it was genetic, they didn’t even have to work at it. Their personalities, on the other hand, left a whole hell of a lot to be desired. Other than Pepper, Rhodey, and a few others, most alphas didn’t even see him as human. He was just a status to them. A possession. An omega.

After Obie, he’d promised himself that he’d never belong to an alpha again.

“He’s fine,” Darcy answered for him. “He just seems to have caught a case of the klutz. Right, Tones?”

Tony tried to make himself nod, tried to laugh it all off and make a joke like he normally would, but he couldn’t move. The words were stuck in his throat. And that’s when it happened. When his body betrayed him. Something sweet and unwelcome tickled his nose. _Oh god. Nonononono._ He had started giving off the distinct scent of ‘interested omega.’

He could only hope that his scent blockers (and ten layers of sunscreen) were strong enough to mask it. Either way, he needed to get away from this man, and fast. “Bye,” he blurted out awkwardly. Then he grabbed Darcy and hauled them both to the other side of the pool, where Natasha was playing.

“Smell me,” he said frantically, once they were a safe enough distance away. Peering around Darcy’s shoulder, he snuck a glance back at the man. Luckily, the blond’s attention was already off of them. The alpha was blowing his whistle at two kids who were wrestling in the pool. 

“Uh,” Darcy’s nose scrunched up. “Why would I want to smell you?”

“Am I…you know…giving off any kind of pheromones?” _Please say no._

Darcy looked confused for a second and then her eyes widened. “Oh my god – you are! I mean, it’s faint, but…you totally want to mate that alpha!”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you,” Tony moaned, hiding his head in his hands. “And I don’t want to mate with him. I don’t even know him.”

“Sorry,” Darcy lowered her voice, “but this is big. This is _huge_. I can’t remember the last time you were interested in an alpha. In fact, I don’t think you’ve _ever_ been interested in an alpha. You were, like, the one exception to every omega rule. Not that I blame you. That guy’s muscles have muscles. His arms are…those are good arms to have.”

“It was a fluke,” Tony insisted. “I’m overtired. Delusional. In need of another coffee.” He slumped pitifully onto a lounge chair, arms crossed over his chest, his heart still pounding. He needed to calm down. Before his scent—however faint it was—got him into trouble.

Darcy plunked down next to him. “We need to find out more about this guy,” she said as she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her tiny shorts. “He’s _it_ – the key to your magical summer.”

“Darcy, no.”

“Darcy, _yes_. I know you’re a sciencey, nerd-brain type, but it’s time to let magic into your life. I’ll just take his pic and do an image search.”

Tony shook his head. “Seriously, drop it.”

“Too late.” Snapping a photo, Darcy masked it under the guise of taking a selfie, her fingers tapping away. “Well, well, well…what do you know? His Facebook is one of the first results and—jackpot—his privacy settings are practically non-existent. We should warn him about that. Wouldn’t want any creepers using it to stalk him.”

“Oh, you mean like we’re doing now?”

“Exactly. His name is Steve Rogers, his birthday is July 4th, he’s in college and his relationship status is—wait for it—single.”

“Of course it is,” Tony said somewhat bitterly, shoving his black sunglasses on. “An alpha like that is probably juggling a laundry list of betas and Os.” The double standard drove Tony crazy. Alphas were encouraged to ‘spread their seed’ but omegas were expected to remain chaste until a formal mating.

“Hashtag not _all_ alphas,” quipped Darcy ironically, knowing it was just the kind of comment that would piss Tony off further. “It looks like he’s an overachiever too. Get this: Mr. Muscles is captain of both the swim team _and_ the football team. And he won the state championship with each. There are a lot of posts about some charity work he’s involved in…huh, wouldn’t have expected that…” 

“What college does he go to?” Tony found himself asking before he could stop himself. _Steve Rogers… even his name is attractive. What a dick._

Darcy let out a puff of surprised breath. “Oh. OH. Oops. Did I say he was in college? My mistake. Apparently, he, uh, just graduated from high school last month…”

“ _High school_?” Tony choked. “He’s in high school?”

“Technically not since last month.”

“But that means he’s a teenager. **That’s** —” Tony pointed to the picture of Steve that was displayed on Darcy’s phone; the alpha was wearing his football uniform and towering, all broad shouldered and golden, over his teammates like some kind of superhero, “—a teenager?!”

“18, to be exact.”

“18?!” At least if he was 19, it’d make him almost 20…and if he was almost 20, then maybe—okay, nope. Tony needed to cut off that entirely too wrong train of thought. “You know what? Never mind. It’s none of my business how old he is. Now put your phone away and stop using your powers for evil.”

 _Great. Just great._ _The first alpha I’m ever attracted to and he’s practically jailbait. What does that say about me?_ God, Howard was right. He _was_ a fuckup.

“Nanny Tony!” Natasha waved at him from the pool. “I can hold my breath to 100. Wanna see?”

“Sure, pumpkin.”

Gulping in a big breath of air, Natasha dunked herself under the water.

“You know…” Darcy looked at him tentatively, “the age difference isn’t that crazy. He _is_ legal. He’s 18 but looks 25. You’re 27 but look—and act—18. Match made in heaven.”

Darcy didn’t know what she was talking about. She was unusually sheltered for an omega. Her older sister—a beta named Jane—was fiercely protective.

But Tony knew better. Tony was the one who had been sold off by his parents before his sixteenth birthday.

Even if Steve-The-Alpha wasn’t almost 10 years younger than him, he’d never want Tony. Disgraced omegas didn’t get happy endings. They didn’t get _anything_.

He was done talking about, thinking about, and, most importantly, staring at Steve Rogers. The topic was officially canceled.

“Shut up, Darce,” Tony told her. “I’m busy counting to 100.”

“You do act like a teenager sometimes,” Bruce said matter-of-factly as he appeared before them. He had been sitting off in the shade, scribbling notes in the margin of his book. It wasn’t uncommon for him to ignore most of Tony and Darcy’s shenanigans. The kid was a prodigy. A child genius. People had called Tony a genius once. Now his intelligence was expected to go to waste. “You’re hardly the paradigm for maturity.”

“Watch it, Banner,” Tony warned him. “Before I prove your latest dissertation wrong out of spite.”

“See?” Banner pointed out. “Immature.” 

Tony willed himself not to make a face at the kid just as Natasha resurfaced from the water with a loud gasp. “Ta-da!” she flung her arms out, preening as Tony and Darcy clapped. Christ…the girl really had held her breath for 100 seconds. Maybe she was part fish.

“No diving in the shallow end!” a loud, authoritative voice rang out. Tony practically jumped out of his skin as the lifeguard strode passed them. The blond—Steve—was admonishing a young, dark-haired boy. The boy splashed some water at him, and Steve reached an arm out to ruffle his hair playfully. _Of course he’s good with kids. He **is** one._ …Even if he did look more grownup than most adults.

Tony tried not to stare at the broad lines of the alpha’s back, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. Just like before, their close proximity was apparently causing all the wires in his brain to overheat.

Sure, the media liked to spread fanciful tales about some ‘lucky’ omegas being able to ‘sense’ their true mates, but Tony knew that was all bullshit. It was a concept made up by Hollywood in order to make money off of gullible romantics. And it definitely wasn’t what was happening to him now.

This was just…fleeting. An irritating and nonsensical attraction.

Still…it wouldn’t hurt to be on the safe side.

 _That settles it_ , he thought.

As soon as he got home, he was going to start building a pool for Natasha, because he never wanted to see the blond alpha again.


	2. Chapter 2

_I can’t believe I’m back here,_ Tony thought as he scowled up at the entrance of the community center. It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours since he’d left.

Admittedly, his plan to never return had hit a couple of snags. While building Nat an aboveground, luxury pool had sounded good in theory, he didn’t exactly have the money required to make it happen. Needless to say, Natasha had been less than impressed with the round, plastic, two-foot deep monstrosity he’d ended up with. “This is for babies,” she’d told him. (Which, fair enough. He’d hardly call it his best work.)

“But look at all the fun pictures,” he’d wheedled, pointing to where he’d attempted to decorate it. “We’ve got fish, seashells, turtles, and…uh…other fish.”

“For. Babies,” she’d repeated in a tone that seemed to say ‘your colorful pictures won’t fool me.’ “I want to go back to the real pool!” She was still on her mermaid kick and swimming was the only thing on her mind. Her green eyes had turned downright frightening when he’d told her that they weren’t going back.

He knew that look.

Bad things happened when Natasha didn’t get her way. Scary things. Damien-from-Rosemary’s-Baby type things. The last time Tony had gotten on her bad side, she’d cut off all the heads of her teddy bears and had lit her barbies on fire.

In the spirit of self-preservation, he’d offered to take her to a different swimming pool. Surely, that wasn’t the only pool in their area, right? Wrong. Nat had fixated on going to _that_ specific pool and no other pool would do. It was as if she was in cahoots with some higher power that existed solely to make his life more difficult.

In the end, he’d decided he was making it into a bigger deal than it actually was. Nat didn’t deserve to have her summer ruined just because he couldn’t handle himself around some random alpha. It was pathetic that he was giving a teenager—a freaking _teenager_ , for god’s sake—so much power over him.

So, he’d decided to try being an adult for once.

He’d rounded up Darcy and Bruce, and they’d set off on another excursion to the community center.

He swore he could feel his heart pounding harder with every step he took towards the building. It practically jumped out of his chest as they walked through the door.

“You look awful,” Darcy eyed him. “And jittery. Why are you so jittery?”

“Caffeine buzz,” he lied, clenching his fist to hide the slight trembling in his hand. “I think four shots of Red Bull and expresso might be the limit even for a superior mortal like myself.” He hadn’t slept a wink the night before and was rocking some truly impressive bags under his eyes.

Darcy shook her head. “I live in a constant state of horror over what passes for you as nutrition. You know that, right?”

Tony shrugged.

It was all that alpha’s fault. He hadn’t been able to make his body calm down and had spent the night pacing his house. His skin had been flushed and almost fevery. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was a sign that he was going into heat. But omegas didn’t get heats on suppressants.

 _Maybe he’s off duty today_ , Tony thought hopefully. Maybe he wouldn’t have to see the alpha at all. He’d come prepared, though, just in case. He’d sprayed on so much scent blocker that he must’ve accidentally inhaled half a bottle. The ensuing coughing fit hadn’t been fun.

His hopes were immediately dashed.

A wave of awareness washed over him and he knew, even without looking, that the blond alpha was nearby. Craning his neck, Tony’s eyes went straight to the alpha, as if drawn there by some kind of magnetic pull.

 _Oh, **come** on_.

Steve Rogers was, if possible, even better looking than he remembered. 

The alpha was standing confidently at the far end of the pool, looking like some kind of ridiculously handsome god of the sea. His’s arms were crossed over his broad chest, making his already impressive biceps bulge even more. The sun was glancing off the hollows of his cheekbones, and he was wearing a pair of reflective, black aviators.

But it was more than just his looks.

There was something about _this_ particular alpha. Something unique to him and no other.

 _Want_ , his inner omega whispered. _Mine_.

Tony mentally snuffed that pathetic voice out.

This was going to be a _long_ day.

“Nanny Tony,” Natasha tugged on his hand eagerly, pulling him onto the pool deck. “Will you swim with me?”

“I wish I could, pumpkin,” he told her gently. “But I can’t swim. Maybe Bruce will play with you.”

“I must decline.” Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose. “I am composing a strongly worded email to Dr. Philip Sterns. I found an error in his latest article.”

“Oh, I read that,” Tony nodded. “It was almost as embarrassing as the stuff Hammer Industries publishes.”

Nat tugged on his hand again, drawing his attention back to her. “You can wear my wings,” her green eyes pleaded with him. “I don’t need them anymore.”

“I appreciate the offer. But as much as I’d love to be the only grown man wearing water wings in the pool, I don’t think they’d help. I don’t like the water.”

“Why don’ you like the water?”

Leaning down, he pretended to tell her a secret. “I’m afraid of sharks,” he whispered.

Nat giggled. “Sharks live in the ocean, silly.”

“National Geographic has taught you well.” He straightened up. “Now go play. I’ll be here if you need me.”

He watched as she scampered off. Bruce followed suit, presumably relocating to a quieter spot to continue his scathing email.

“You really can’t swim?” Darcy asked Tony, surprised.

“I almost drowned when I was a kid.” He tried to sound more casual than he felt. “Never much cared for the water since.”

He could still hear Howard’s voice in his head as clear as anything. Could smell the whiskey on his breath. _“This life is sink or swim, son. I’ll make a man out of you yet.”_

He’d been six years old…and his father had been willing to let him die in order to teach him a lesson. To make him stronger. Less weak. Less of a disappointment.

Tony had always been too sensitive for dear old Howie, even before he’d presented as an omega. As if, deep down, his dad had already known the truth.

“We could sign you up for lessons,” Darcy said innocently. “There’s a posting on the wall. I think I read that Steve,” she pronounced it more like _Steeeeeeve_ , “is one of the instructors.”

Tony flipped her off.

She was too busy staring off into the distance to care. “Does it look like everything he does is in 1080p or is it just me? He’s better than Baywatch.”

“Nope,” Tony admitted grumpily. “It’s not just you.”

 _Eighteen_ , he reminded himself. _Eighteen, eighteen, eighteen_.

Seriously, what the hell was in that boy’s Wheaties? Because eighteen-year-olds had not looked like _that_ when Tony was his age.

The sound of female snickering broke Tony out of his reverie.

“Great suit, Darcy,” a tall, leggy, blonde sneered as she approached them. “Did you get it from the Juniors section at Walmart?”

Darcy looked down at her swimsuit. It was a white one-piece covered in pictures of hamburgers. Failing to see what was wrong with it, she shrugged and glanced back up at the blonde. “Er, heeey, Amara. How…um, great…to see you again.”

The beta—Amara—was older than Tony and Darcy. Tony guessed she was in her mid-30s. She had emerald green eyes and was wearing a string bikini of the same color. Her smile was as fake as her spray tan.

“I see you’re still unmated,” Amara observed, conveniently holding out her hand in a way that displayed a giant, diamond ring.

“Yeah, you, know, that hasn’t really been my main priority,” Darcy replied.

“Clearly.” Amara gave her another unimpressed once-over. “Well, I’ve got to run. I have more important things to do. Tell Thor I said hi!”

“Right. Yeah. Sure. I will absolutely not pass on that message,” Darcy said to the blonde’s already retreating back.

“What a congenial lady,” Tony remarked sarcastically once the beta was out of earshot. “Something tells me she’s not your favorite person.”

“That woman is banana balls. She went all Swimfan on my sister’s boyfriend a few years ago and almost broke them up. I thought Thor was going to have to get a restraining order.”

Tony didn’t know Thor personally, but he sounded like one of the few loyal alphas out there. Omegas weren’t taught to expect monogamy from their mates. They were taught that alphas had ‘needs’ and that those needs often required more than their partners could give them. Tony couldn’t imagine too many men—or women—turning Amara down.

“Ugh,” Darcy’s face scrunched in distaste. “It looks like she’s found her newest target. Poor Steve.”

Amara had moseyed across the pool and was now laying her beach towel down next to Steve’s lifeguard chair. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she proceeded to crawl onto the towel like she was in the middle of a Sports Illustrated photoshoot. When that failed to earn her the alpha’s attention, she pulled a bottle from her tote bag and began applying tanning oil to her legs in what could only be described as an unsubtle fashion. 

Tony ignored an irrational surge of jealousy. “I doubt he minds.” As a teenage alpha, the kid was probably a walking smorgasbord of hormones. And there was no denying that Amara was beautiful.

Yet, to his amazement, Steve didn’t even once glance her way.

Tony refused to do any kind of self-reflecting on why he was so deeply pleased by that fact.

* * *

“I’ve got to run to the not-so-little girls’ room.” Darcy got up from her lounge chair. “Be right back.”

Tony managed a lazy grunt in reply. The hot afternoon sun was beaming down on him, making him not want to move. The material of his t-shirt felt stifling and was practically sticking to him. Not for the first time, he resented the fact that he was too fucked up to cool off in the water. He had to be the only loser who went to the pool and was too damn afraid to swim.

He was jerked from his pity party by the sound of children yelling.

“You are a dim-witted, juvenile Neanderthal!” Bruce was shouting. “Return those to me at once!” 

“You’re mean and you talk funny!” another boy shot back.

 _I better go over there._ Before Bruce got truly angry. He was already huffing and puffing and turning a dangerous shade of red.

Bruce had a hard time getting along with the other children his age. His intelligence set him apart from them and made him ‘different’ - and like anything that was different, it also made him a target for bullying.

Tony could relate.

As he hurried closer, he saw that the boy had somehow managed to grab Bruce’s glasses and one of his textbooks. Bruce was lunging for them but the boy was mockingly dangling them out of his reach. 

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Tony injected sternly. “Give those back to him.”

The boy didn’t exactly look cowed by his adultly presence. “What are you going to do about it, omega?” he sneered, spitting out ‘omega’ like it was a curse word. “I saw the ink on your neck. My mom told me about strays like you.”

Tony fought the urge to flinch as the tattoo on the back of his neck suddenly flared with a remembered, phantom pain.

Wonderful. Now he was being mocked for his deepest shame by a child. Not exactly his proudest moment.

Disgraced omegas were branded with a single, black barcode on the back of their necks. Barren omegas were branded with a red one. Getting them removed or covering them up was illegal.

“Give those back to him,” Tony repeated. 

“Okay,” the boy agreed. And then he promptly threw Bruce’s belongings into the pool and raced off, cackling.

“Oh, real nice!” Tony shouted ineffectually after him. “Where are your parents? I’m going to have a talk with them!” Though he doubted the brat’s parents would actually care.

“Tony,” Bruce said in a small, lost voice as he blinked rapidly. “I can’t see. I need my glasses.” His IQ often made him come off as older then he was, but right now it was heartbreakingly obvious that he was still just a kid.

“It’s okay. I’ll find someone to get them for you.” He lifted his head to look for assistance and nearly froze when he saw Steve-The-Lifeguard doing an Olympic level dive into the pool.

The blond disappeared under the water and quickly resurfaced with Bruce’s belongings in hand. He effortlessly heaved himself out of the pool using one heavily muscled arm— _what a showoff_ —and began heading towards Tony in what should have been a slow-motion Baywatch sequence.

And just like that, Tony’s entire brain crashed to a halt. _Code red_ , his body warned him. _Code red_. Dear god, he was in no way prepared for the full force of Steve’s stupid, alpha magnetism all up close and personal again. He’d barely escaped it the first time.

Especially not when the alpha was dripping wet and had his red lifeguard’s tank sticking to him like a second skin – clinging to every hard, muscular line of his pectorals and abs. Muscles that Tony very much suddenly wanted to explore with his tongue.

Which was a bad, bad thought to be having in such a public place. The last thing he needed was his pheromones acting up again.

“Here,” the alpha said, handing Bruce his glasses. “Don’t worry about Jeremy. I’ll have a talk with him. He won’t bother you two again.”

 _Jeremy_? Oh, that must’ve been the name of Bruce’s bully.

Bruce took his glasses and began drying the lenses on his shirt, immediately appearing calmer.

“I’m sorry about your book,” the alpha continued, holding up the soggy, limp cover that read ‘Nuclear Physics: Experimental and Theoretical’. “It seems a tad waterlogged.”

“It’s okay.” Bruce slid his glasses back on and reached for the book. “I already memorized it. Thank you for your assistance. I would stay and exchange further social niceties, but I’d rather return to my studies.” He strode off, leaving Tony and Steve alone.

 _Alone. Alone. Alone._ The word seemed to echo in Tony’s head. Hunching his shoulders, he resisted the pathetic impulse to bolt.

“Smart kid.” Steve turned to Tony with the same slightly wide-eyed, impressed look that people usually got around Bruce’s Bruceness. “Is he yours? I have to be honest, you don’t look old enough to have a child his age.”

 _Oh, sweet Jesus_. The alpha wasn’t actually going to try to talk to him, was he?

Maybe if he stayed silent, the teen would get the hint and go away.

Steve cleared his throat and Tony realized that, nope, the alpha was still waiting for him to answer.

“No, I’m, uh, just the nanny,” Tony stammered. Why did his throat feel so dry? “Well, my friend Darcy is technically his nanny. But I’m a nanny too.”

“What’s your name? I never got the chance to ask yesterday.”

Steve remembered him from yesterday? That was not good. Very not good. Maximum, mind-blowingly not good. “Tony. Is me. I’m Tony.” And why was he giving an alpha his real name? Usually he lied and told them he was Jarvis.

“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Steve.”

“I know,” Tony answered without thinking.

There was an awkward pause where the alpha looked like he was fighting a grin.

 _Oh shit_ , Tony realized, eyes widening. “I mean, I, uh, overheard someone calling you that. Not that I was listening for it or anything. I just happened to catch it. So…yeah. That’s how I know your name. It’s not like I looked you up on Facebook. That would be crazy.”

Now the alpha _did_ grin. With teeth, even. Tony had to admit it was a good smile. A leading man sort of smile. The kind of smile that made everyone, no matter who they were, fall just a little bit in love with him. _Asshole._

“Rogers!” a grizzled, older man shouted. “Stop flirting and check the chemicals in the pool!”

“Yes, coach!” Steve called back. “That’s my cue,” he told Tony apologetically. “See you around…?”

Was Tony imagining things or had Steve added a question mark to the end of that sentence?

Tony nodded numbly but the alpha was already gone.

 _Oh boy_ , he thought, trying to mentally shake himself out of his lust induced trance. That attraction that he’d experienced yesterday? It hadn’t been a fluke.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Steve Rogers was going to prove to be a very big problem for him in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I’m pretty blown away by the response to the last chapter. My struggle with grammar is real so I’m glad this is even legible lol. Thank you so much for all the comments! They def encourage me to keep writing.


	3. Chapter 3

_‘Wouldn't it be nice if we were older_  
_Then we wouldn't have to wait so long?_  
_And wouldn't it be nice to live together  
_ _In the kind of world where we belong?’_

One of the older moms at the pool was playing The Beach Boys on a pink boombox and it was making Tony nostalgic as hell.

His mother had used to play their music for him when he was really little. He could remember her tinkling laughter as they’d danced together, spinning and twirling around the room. Of course, it hadn’t happened often. His mother had rarely been home and had even more rarely payed attention to him. But, still…it was one of the few positive memories from his childhood.

Now, he doubted whether he’d ever see his mother again. She and his father had disowned him after he’d become disgraced. Though, in most ways, he felt like he’d already lost them before that. Or like he’d never really had them at all.

“What’s your name?” Tony heard Natasha ask a young boy as she waded through the water. 

“Bucky,” the boy replied. He had chin length brown hair and looked to be around the same age as her.

Nat’s button nose wrinkled. “What kind of name is that?”

“I dunno. My brother gave it to me.”

“He sounds dumb,” she said in that ‘too honest’ manner of young children.

“He’s not!” The boy frowned. “He’s really smart.”

“My nanny is smarter. He built me a dancing robot.”

“Really?” The boy’s eyes lit up. “I like robots.” 

“Me too.” Nat smiled. “Do you wanna be friends?”

“Okay,” the boy smiled back.

And then they were playing in the pool together – a friendship made, just like that. Maybe his job as a nanny was turning him into a softie, but Tony found it adorably wholesome. There was something to be said for the way young kids treated each other. They didn’t have any bullshit alpha/beta/omega dynamics getting in their way and complicating everything.

Life would get more challenging as they got older. Harsher. Crueler. 

He could attest to that.

“Captain America is staring at you,” Darcy announced from over the top of her magazine, peering at Tony through red, heart shaped sunglasses.

Tony fought down the pathetic thrill that shot through him. Feigning indifference, he said, “Captain Who?”

“Captain America. Steve. Our strapping lifeguard. I’ve bequeathed him with that title due to his red, white, and blue lifeguard uniform and because his little football-slash-swim-team friends are always calling him Cap. It fits him, don’t you think?” Darcy tapped a finger against her lips, mulling it over. “That, or Captain Handsome. Both suffice.”

“I’d rather just call him ‘The Lifeguard,’ like ‘The Waitress’ on _It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia_. Clever nicknames are reserved for the people we like,” Tony muttered, sinking further into his lounge chair. He and Darcy had a habit of coming up with a variety of different witticisms for the names of their friends. “And he’s not staring at me.”

“Sorry, but he totally is. He’s been looking at you since we came in.”

In truth, Tony had suspected that Steve was staring at him. He could practically feel the alpha’s eyes on him and it was making his entire body buzz. As an omega, he was used to betas and, especially, alphas watching his every move. It had always been something he’d hated, regardless of his mother’s recriminations that he should feel flattered. _“You’re a beautiful omega, Anthony,”_ she’d scolded him. _“Alphas aren’t doing anything wrong by simply looking at you.”_

But they were. They _were_.

Because their eyes roamed over him like he belonged to them. Like he existed solely for their pleasure.

Despite all that, a sick part of him yearned for Steve’s attention; wanted to preen under the teenager’s gaze. He’d even spent extra time in the mirror that morning, trying to tame his thick, short brown hair before realizing what he was doing and stomping off. And no matter how many times he told himself that he was only returning to the pool for Nat’s benefit, he knew it was a lie. He was turning into a goddamn omega cliché.

To add insult to injury, Tony had also dreamt of Steve the night before. He couldn’t remember much aside from blue eyes, corded muscles, and blond hair, but he’d woken up with an inescapable ache of longing. A longing that still hadn’t subsided.

Knowing that he shouldn't, Tony lifted his head and peeked at the alpha. His eyes immediately locked with Steve’s, making Tony’s stomach bottom out and his mouth go dry. God, the alpha _was_ staring at him. The teenager didn’t even seem embarrassed to have been caught looking. His handsome face broke into a smile and he waved. 

“Aww…” Darcy elbowed Tony, knocking him out of his paralyzed stupor. “Wave back!”

_Right. Wave. I know how to wave._ Tony gave the alpha a quick, awkward wave, and then turned to Darcy with a glare.

She looked far too smug for his liking. “I told ya’ he was staring at you, dude.”

“Just read your magazine,” Tony shushed her. “Though I have no idea how you read that crap. It’s dark-sided, is what it is.”

Darcy was currently flipping through a copy of Omega’s Secret. As far as Tony was concerned, the magazine was nothing more than thinly disguised alpha propaganda. It was filled with articles like ‘Meals to Make Your Mate Happy’ ‘5 Submissive Tricks to Try During Your Next Heat’ and ‘How to Please Your Alpha.’

“Hey!” she objected. “I’m hate-reading it. I’m going to take a page out of Bruce’s book and write a strongly worded e-mail later tonight about everything they got wrong over a pint of cheap beer.”

“Sounds productive.”

“Nanny Tony!” He heard the pitter-patter of little feet racing towards him and then the redhead was standing in front of him, brandishing her arm at him and hiccupping through her tears. “Nanny Tony, I’m bleedin’!” The girl was normally a tough cookie but she really didn’t like the sight of blood.

“What happened?” he asked calmly but with concern. He had learned the hard way that kids were a sponge for emotions and that if he freaked out, she’d only become more upset (Nat skinning her knee his first week on the job came to mind). Gently taking her arm, he inspected the cut on her elbow. Her skin was red and welling with a tiny amount of blood, but it was thankfully nothing serious.

“I s-scraped it on the side of the pool!”

“It’s okay, pumpkin. You’ll be better in no time. We’ll get you a Band-Aid and fix you right up.”

Darcy rummaged through their supply bag. “Er, sorry,” she winced apologetically. “I must have forgot to pack them. You’ll have to ask the lifeguard.”

_Perfect._ Precisely the last person he wanted to talk to. But he wasn’t about to hesitate when Nat was hurt.

“Alright,” he took Nat’s hand. “Let’s go talk to the lifeguard.”

He schooled himself into acting normal as they approached Steve’s lifeguard chair. The blond stood up as they reached him.

“Everything okay?” the alpha asked, his voice still deeper than it had any right to be.

“Do you have any Band-Aids?” There, that wasn’t so hard. He hadn’t stuttered at all.

“Yeah. Hold on.” Steve’s arms flexed as he grabbed the first aid kit from where it was hooked on the side of his chair. “Here.”

Tony found himself weirdly entranced by the veins in the teen’s biceps, which was a new low, because he’d never been attracted to a vein before. God, he was such a pervert. “Thanks,” he forced out. He made sure that their fingers didn’t touch as he hastily took the first aid kit.

The kit, amongst other things, had a ton of multicolored bandages inside. He let Natasha pick out her favorite one and then distracted her with jokes while he sprayed her cut with Neosporin. Before long, all traces of her tears were gone.

“There,” he said, gently placing the Band-Aid on her elbow. “Not only are you all better, but you’re also the most fashionable mermaid in the sea.”

“I’m the most fashionable mermaid in the sea!” she repeated, beaming and showing off her sparkly, pink Band-Aid to Steve.

Steve surprised Tony by playing along. “I never met a mermaid before. I should’ve guessed when I saw the red hair. You look like Ariel.”

“Ariel is boring.” Natasha’s nose wrinkled. “She thinks about boys too much.”

The alpha chuckled good-naturedly. “I stand corrected.”

“You watch Disney movies?” Tony blurted out. He wouldn’t have guessed that with the teen’s tough alpha jock image. Then again, at his age, he probably still watched Nickelodeon.

“Everyone watches Disney movies,” Steve replied easily.

Nat tugged on Tony’s shirt. “Can I go back in the pool now?”

“Sure.” He watched her skip off.

“You’re good with her,” the alpha said from beside him, his voice laced in approval.

Something about the comment made Tony’s temper flare. He loathed the way his instincts practically lapped up the praise. He could never shake his inborn omega desire to please. _No._ _I don’t need his approval._ “Of course, I am,” he retorted sarcastically, forgetting to keep his attitude in check. “I’m an omega, aren’t I? We’re all perfectly maternal and great with kids.”

“Uh.” Steve’s large body shifted in place, his eyes widening. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it?” It was easier to focus on his anger than all the wrong ways the 18-year-old made him feel. It wouldn’t be the first time his mouth had gotten him into trouble anyway. He was forever being accused of being ‘too difficult’ and ‘argumentative’. Just ask Obie. 

“No, I—”

Cutting him off, Tony thrust the first aid kit at the alpha’s chest. “Thanks again for the Band-Aid. I’ll be leaving now.”

Steve’s big hand closed around the white case. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Tony turned away so that he didn’t have to hear it and headed back over to Darcy.

“What did you say to him?” Darcy propped her sunglasses up into her hair. “He looks like a kicked golden retriever puppy.”

“Nothing,” said Tony resolutely.

Because that was all that would ever be between him and the alpha.

Absolutely nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony followed Natasha as she bounded up the front porch of her new friend’s home. He had received a phone call from a woman named Sarah, who was the mother of the boy Natasha had met at the pool. Sarah had invited Natasha and Tony over for a playdate.

The house was modestly sized but nice, with a freshly cut green lawn, a basketball net hanging over the garage, and a bicycle lying on the driveway. Unlike the cold, too perfect mansion Tony had grown up in, it looked like a warm, welcoming family home. 

Nat stretched on her tiptoes as she tried to push the doorbell. She was too short and had to jump to reach it. “Hi! Hello! Hi!” she hopped excitedly. “I’m here! Please let me in!”

Tony tried not to laugh at her obvious enthusiasm. “I think they heard you. Give them a second to come to the door.”

“What if their doorbell is broken?” she pouted.

“It’s not.” He could already hear footsteps and movement coming from inside the house.

The door swung open and Tony almost swallowed his tongue.

“What are **you** doing here?” he sputtered.

Steve Rogers was standing in front of him. Lifeguard Steve. Stupidly gorgeous, ‘should be at the pool’ Steve. The new bane of his existence.

“…I live here,” Steve said, as if the answer should have been obvious. It was the first time Tony had seen him out of his lifeguard uniform. The alpha was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a blue t-shirt that, while baggier than his lifeguard tank, did nothing to hide his muscles and only made his eyes look even bluer.

“You are not who I spoke to on the phone,” Tony insisted, mentally calculating if he was running a fever and hallucinating. “That was a woman’s voice. Quite an affable lady, really, and clearly not you considering your lack of, er, ladyhood. She invited us over but we must have the wrong house.” He stepped backwards. “Terribly sorry to have bothered you. Goodbye.”

“That was my mother. She was planning on being here but got called into work.” Humor tugged at the alpha’s mouth as he swung the door open wider. “You have the right house.”

“Your mother?” Tony repeated. “But that makes you…oh, you’re Bucky’s brother.” It seemed embarrassingly obvious now that he’d realized it. Bucky was always chasing after Steve in a manner reminiscent of a younger sibling at the pool. And while the two didn’t exactly look alike, they had the same stubborn, mischievous glint in their eyes that must have been a Rogers family trait.

“Buck!” Steve called out. “Our guests are here!”

_Our guests?_ Tony’s mind raced. _Did he just say **our** guests? _He was struck with the abrupt feeling that he was walking into a lion’s den. Like the alpha had somehow set this into motion…like it was all one big, giant trap.

But that couldn’t possibly be true, could it? It’s not like Steve had tricked his brother into becoming friends with Nat and then roped his mother into calling Tony so that she could arrange a playdate in some convoluted scheme to get him alone...that would be insane. 

He was just being paranoid. Surely, this wasn’t about him at all.

It was about Nat making friends.

The redhead had a strong personality and could sometimes be a bully without realizing it. She had a bad habit of turning the other children into minions—even the ones who were older than her. They followed her leadership and took orders without question. It was as impressive as it was disturbing.

Bucky seemed to be the only kid—outside of Bruce—who she allowed to stand up to her.

And while Tony would normally never willingly enter the home of a strange alpha…he didn’t want to disappoint Nat. Didn’t want to make something out of nothing and ruin things with her new friend. Leaving now would feel too much like he was tucking his tail and running. He’d be all but confirming the stereotype that omegas were too fragile to socialize with alphas without some kind of chaperone around. _It’ll be fine_ , he chanted to himself. Nothing was going to happen.

Steve’s brow lifted. “You coming inside or are you planning on standing on my doorstep all day?”

Tony flushed. “Uh. Right. Inside. We’re coming inside.” As he stepped into the small entrance hall, he half expected the robot from _Lost in Space_ to pop up and start blaring "Danger, Will Robinson!"

Natasha shared no such sentiments. She happily barreled passed him. “Hi Captain Handsome!” she greeted with a ballet curtsy.

Tony broke into a coughing fit. “W-what did you say?”

“Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Her green eyes blinked up at Tony innocently. “I heard you an’ Darcy calling him that.”

_Damn Darcy_. “We were talking about someone else,” he said quickly, darting his eyes to Steve. “Not that you aren’t a perfectly nice, handsome young gentleman—emphasis on young—but I don’t personally…uh…” trailing off, he realized he was only digging himself deeper. “Well, what I mean to say is,” he gave a strained smile and glanced around. “You have a lovely home?”

“Thanks. I think.” The alpha shut the door behind them. “And for the record, I’m not that young. I’m old enough to know what I want."

Uh. Cue gulp. What the hell was he supposed to say to _that_? What was that even supposed to mean?

Luckily, he didn’t have to reply as Bucky seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Natasha!” The boy was wearing big, plastic, secret agent goggles. The lens screen was blue and it had a yellow flip out scope. “Come see my spy kit! I hafta take your fingerprints so I can arrest you.” 

Take her fingerprints and arrest her? No wonder those two got along.

Tony shuffled nervously as the two kids paired up and disappeared into the living room. The alpha’s presence felt even more daunting and inescapable than it did at the pool. _What should I do? Should I compliment his home again?_

It was quite a nice house, actually, now that he was looking. It was clean and orderly and had an old-fashioned, rustic feel. Most of the furniture was vintage or made of wood and the walls were painted in earthy, cream tones. A collection of family portraits hung over the hall table. In one picture, a blond boy had his arms around a chubby cheeked toddler Bucky. Tony thought it was Steve at first glance, but quickly dismissed it. The kid was too skinny, tiny, and anemic—as though he was suffering from some kind of health issues—to be the alpha. Perhaps the photo was of another brother or a cousin, then.

“Can I get you anything?” Steve spoke up. “A snack or a drink? I always see you with a coffee in your hand at the pool.”

Tony’s stomach gave an unwilling flutter at the thought of the teen paying attention to his drink preferences. “Uh. No. I’m alright. Honestly, don’t let me get in your way. I’m sure you have stuff you’d rather be doing than babysitting the nanny. I have a lot of reading I can catch up on. I don’t mind, uh, just sitting alone quietly for the next couple of hours. We don’t have to interact or talk at all, really.” In fact, he’d prefer it if they didn’t. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Steve frowned. “You’re not trouble,” he said firmly. “Come on.” He motioned towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make you that coffee.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” There was a strange note of something deliberate in the alpha’s tone. “I’m sure.”

* * *

“Do you take sugar or milk?” Steve set a red mug down in front Tony on the kitchen table.

“Black is fine.” Tony was having a hard time absorbing the fact that an alpha was actually serving him a drink. He was used to it being the other way around—used to alphas ordering _him_ to get _them_ things instead. Reaching forward, he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. Even though he’d watched Steve make it and knew it hadn’t been tampered with, he still didn’t want to drink it. He didn’t need anything making him anymore nervous or jumpy.

Especially because the alpha was still hovering over his shoulder. He was waiting for Steve to step away and take a seat at the table—hopefully _far_ across the table—but the alpha wasn’t moving.

“Listen…about the other day.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, making the muscles bunch in his arm. “If I said something wrong, I’m sorry. I never wanted to upset you.” The tips of his ears were turning red like he was close to blushing.

Tony was supremely glad he hadn’t taken a sip of his coffee because he would have spit it out everywhere. He’d never seen an alpha blush before. Hell, he hadn’t realized alphas _could_ blush. “Oh. Um, that’s alright. It’s possible that I may have _slightly_ overreacted. It’s been known to happen from time to time. Chalk it up to my laundry list of character defects.” Making his voice light as to not cause offense even though he wasn’t truly kidding, he tacked on, “Anyway, I didn’t realize alphas knew how to apologize.”

“I usually don’t. But it’s been pointed out to me that I can be a real stubborn asshole sometimes.” The alpha winced like he was immediately regretting what he’d said. “Uh, I mean…I didn’t mean to cuss.”

_Oh, please_. Was Steve worried about offending the delicate omega’s sensibilities? Who even said the word ‘cuss’ anymore? Tony snorted. “I’m not a schoolmarm. Cussing doesn’t bother me.”

“I know you’re not a schoolmarm. You’re…” Steve stared at Tony, his gaze seeming to go unfocused for a second. “So, how long have you been a nanny?”

“Six months.” Tony felt his face heat under Steve’s stare. “I’m apparently the eighth nanny her parents have tried. They claim she scared all the others away, yet I’m still hanging in there. She seems to like me for some inexplicable reason.”

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Steve leaned against the counter. “I can think of a couple of reasons why someone would like you,” he said smoothly.

Tony squirmed in his chair and looked down at his mug. _What. The. Hell._ Why did it feel like the teen had just hit on him? Was it just wishful thinking?

_No_ , his mind scolded him. _I don’t **want** him to hit on me._

That would be wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

He needed to change the subject – quick. “What about you? Any goals? Aspirations?” _Considering you actually get to have them_ , he wanted to add. Yeah, he was a little bitter.

“I’m going to Empire State University on a football scholarship in September. I like playing the game but I honestly don’t care what I do as long as I make enough money to take care of mom and Buck.”

“Scholarship, huh? Congrats.” Okay, why was Tony struck with a weird pang of longing at the idea of the alpha leaving in three months? Steve meant nothing to him. “I was given a scholarship once. I was accepted into the undergraduate program at MIT when I was 15…but they rescinded my admission after I presented. My mom shipped me off to omega finishing school instead.” He didn’t know why he was telling Steve all this. He wasn’t looking for pity or a lecture on how omegas belonged in the home and didn’t require a real education.

“I’m sorry.” Steve set his jaw. “I don’t think it’s fair that omegas aren’t granted the same opportunities as the rest of us.”

Tony almost overturned his coffee mug in a clumsy attempt to hide his shock. That was _not_ what he’d expected the alpha to say. Was Steve telling the truth or was he trying to trick Tony into a false state of security? His blue eyes looked honest enough, but Tony had seen alphas pretend to care about omega rights before, only to turn around and punish those who came forward. “Life isn’t fair,” he answered carefully. “It is what it is.”

“No. It isn’t fair. But that doesn’t mean you should accept it. You need to push forward, fight back.”

_Yeah, ‘cause that worked out so well when I tried it._ He had the scars and broken bones that proved otherwise.

It was so easy to tell someone to fight back when you were a good-looking, successful, eighteen-year-old alpha male. When you’d never once experienced real suffering in your entire life.

Tony was dangerously close to snapping at the alpha again.

“Steeeeve!” Bucky burst into the open kitchen with Nat hot on his heels. She skittered into him, almost knocking them both over before he steadied her. “We want to play in the backyard.”

* * *

“I can do more cartwheels than you!” Natasha yelled as she tumbled around the yard.

“Well, I can run faster than you!” Bucky argued back, racing passed her.

The two children had been competing with each other for the last 40 minutes. They had already battled it out to see who could do more jumping jacks, who could do a better handstand, and who could hold their breath the longest. They were the living embodiment of ‘Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you.’ He was practically waiting for them to break into song.

Nevertheless, as odd as their friendship was, it seemed to work.

Tony couldn’t help but wonder how he and Steve would have gotten along as children. The alpha probably would have been one of the kids who’d picked on him, which was a pretty depressing thought. But then he remembered that Steve hadn’t even been born until Tony had turned nine, which made it an even _more_ depressing thought…not to mention disturbing.

Yet, it did nothing to dull how attuned he felt to the teenager. He wished he could make it stop.

It probably didn’t help that while he was pretending to be scrolling through his phone, he was secretly studying the alpha out of the corner of his eye instead.

Bucky had brought notebooks and pencil crayons outside for him and Natasha to use. The bickering twosome had lasted all of five minutes before growing bored. (“I can draw better than you!” “No, **I** can draw better than you!”) Though Tony did now have Nat’s new artistic rendering of him to show for it. The redhead had drawn a rather interesting picture of him as a merman. In it, he was holding a trident, had a green aquatic tail, and long flowing brown hair. On the top of it she’d written: ‘ _To my faverit nannie I hate all other nannies’_ in large, messy lettering and had made him promise that he’d hang it up on his fridge forever. 

Steve had flipped one of the patio chairs around. He was straddling it while leaning pensively over a sketch pad that he had propped up against the back of the chair. The pencil in his hand was scratching against the page but Tony couldn’t see what he was drawing. The sun was glinting off his blond hair, making it appear streaked with gold, and highlighting the stark hollows of his too attractive face. His lowered lashes were long and full, his nose straight and commanding, and his lips were pink and perfectly plush. He was as stunningly handsome as he was rugged. Despite the teen’s musculature, size, and overall mature appearance, his true age was more apparent upon closer inspection. His tanned skin was too smooth and unlined to put him anywhere over 21.

Tony had the feeling that Steve would only get more handsome and more magnetic as he got older. He was the type who’d look extra rakish and appealing with some friendly crinkles under his eyes and a hint of smile lines.

Not that Tony would be around to see it.

But, god, he suddenly wanted to be. Wanted the teen despite their unsettling age gap.

Wanted him so much it was making him dizzy – and was going to activate his pheromones if he wasn’t careful. 

_I’m going straight to hell_ , he texted Darcy.

_????_ Darcy texted back.

Setting his phone down, Tony tried to stop his knee from bouncing restlessly. The awkward, monotonous silence between him and Steve was starting to get to him. The birds tweeting in the distance might as well have been crickets. He never had been good at keeping his mouth shut. He would have died in A Quiet Place within the first five minutes. “Soooo,” he grasped for something to say, wanting to kick himself for his own lameness. “Beautiful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Summer’s my favorite season,” Steve said without looking up from his paper. “I wish it lasted all year round. I’d live in the water if I could. It used to drive my mom crazy when I was younger—I never wanted to get out of the pool.”

“Not me. I can’t stay far enough _away_ from the water.”

A line appeared between Steve’s brows. “…But you’re at the pool all the time.”

“Because Nat loves to swim. Me? Not so much. Though I suppose my opinion might differ if I actually knew how.”

Steve lifted his head, the pencil in his hand stilling. “You don’t know how to swim?”

_Shit_. Why had he said that? And why did he keep sharing personal details of his life with the alpha? He knew better than that. _Never reveal a vulnerability_. “Well, see, it depends on how you define ‘swim’. Could I do a triple backflip off a diving board? Probably not. But the front crawl doesn’t look very hard to master. And I’m sure I could perfect a mean doggy paddle if I—”

“I could teach you,” Steve cut him off.

Tony froze. His heart skipped a beat like he was in a 1970s Harlequin romance novel. He could picture Steve’s suggestion all too perfectly. Hours of one-on-one time spent together—half-naked and dripping wet—in the pool…Exploring all the miles and miles of the alpha’s sun-kissed skin and hardened muscles…Steve’s strong hands on him as he instructed him, gently but possessively…Their sweaty bodies brushing up against each other. “…That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?” The teen looked almost too earnest to be trusted.

_Because I’m terrified of the water. And you._ “I’ve made it 27 years without knowing how to swim. I’m confident I can make it 27 more.”

“Alright. I won’t push you. But let me know if you change your mind. The offer’s still on the table.” 

“Uh huh,” Tony mumbled. Like that would be happening. Not until hell froze over and an omega was elected president.

The pencil in Steve’s hand began moving across the notepad again as he refocused on whatever it was he was doing. Tony sat up straighter, trying to peak at it, but he still couldn’t get a good look. The angle was all wrong.

The teen’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Are you trying to see what I’m doing?”

_Busted._ Tony shrank back. “No,” he lied, even though the curiosity was killing him.

“I’ll show it to you in a second. It’s for you, anyway.”

“For me?” he repeated, frowning. Why would it be for _him_?

The alpha tore the page out of his sketchbook and handed it to Tony. Tony hesitated before taking it, making sure there was no accidental touching of hands, just like he had with the first aid kit. Then he brought the page in front of him and nearly dropped it before doing an inelegant doubletake.

Because he was staring at a hyper realistic, expertly rendered drawing of himself. Steve had drawn _him_. Had shaded and detailed him impeccably, right down to the small, faded, white scar on his chin. (The scar he’d gotten from when his father had busted his face open in an alcohol fueled rage, but, Christ, he wasn’t about to go down that particular memory lane now.)

The thing was, Tony usually hated how he looked. As a male omega, he was severely limited in his ability to develop muscle and was incapable of growing facial hair. He was a skinnier, weaker, shorter version of his father. Every time he looked in the mirror, Howard’s features stared right back at him, mocking him. Reminding him that he’d never be good enough. That he’d never amount to anything.

But he strangely didn’t hate the way he looked in Steve’s sketch of him. The desperation and shame that usually darkened his eyes—hanging over him like an ever-constant shadow—weren’t there. The Tony in the picture was wearing his favorite ACDC shirt (the one he’d worn his first day at the pool) and was laughing while flipping someone—presumably Darcy—the middle finger. He had his black sunglasses propped on the end of his nose, appearing confident and happy, his eyes practically smirking. He looked like someone youthful and charismatic. Like the kind of person he might’ve been in another life. 

Why Steve had depicted him like that, he didn’t know. There was no way the teenager actually saw him like that. He felt like Steve was taunting him somehow. Like the alpha was only paying attention to him so that he could laugh about it with his beta friends later. Like it was some kind of sick joke.

He opened his mouth. Tried and failed to talk. Then he narrowed his eyes and tried again. “What is this?”

Steve held his gaze evenly. “What does it look like? I wanted to practice my sketching.”

“And you decided to draw me?”

The teen shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I like that you aren’t caught up in trying to be well-mannered and obedient like all the other omegas at my school. I like that you told me off.”

Oh, this was bad. DEFCON 1 level bad.

“Put your hands up!” Bucky yelled.

“You’re under arrest!” Nat’s girlish voice followed.

Tony glanced up and barely caught sight of them standing there with Super Soakers in their hands before he and Steve were instantly doused with water. Moving faster than should have been possible for a person his size, Steve seemed to appear magically in front of Tony, shielding him from the kids’ prank.

“What are we under arrest for?” Steve sputtered through a surprised laugh, holding up a large hand to stop more water from hitting his face.

“For crimes!” Bucky shouted.

“Yeah!” Nastasha agreed. “And making us eat broccoli!”

Bucky pulled back the handgrip of the water gun but the toy had emptied. “Abort! Abort!” he informed Natasha. “I’m out of ammo! Run!”

Steve tore after him. In no time at all, he had his little brother apprehended. They play wrestled for a bit before Steve pulled him into a headlock and gave him a noogie. Tony would have been alarmed—he didn’t quite know what playful roughhousing was supposed to look like, having only been exposed to the other kind—but the boy was still laughing.

“Argh! Let me go, you jerk-faced butthead!” Bucky struggled to get free. 

“Watch your language,” Steve warned him.

“Hippogriff! You swear all the time! You’re just tryin’ to impress—"

“It’s hypo _crite_ ,” Steve cut him off. “Now apologize, punk.”

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he relented, snickering. 

“And apologize to our guest,” Steve added.

“I’m sorry Mr. Tony,” Bucky said contritely.

“Good.” Steve let his brother go. Bucky harrumphed at him and dashed away with Natasha, both of them giggling like fiends.

Tony didn’t quite know what to make of it. He was glad that Bucky was clearly comfortable enough around his older brother to act like…well, a kid, and not the frighteningly obedient Stepford child that was the product of too many alpha households. Alphas liked to think of themselves as all-powerful but they had pathetically fragile egos. They were quick to perceive any ‘slight’ against them as a challenge of their authority. Tony had no doubt that some of them would’ve been genuinely angered by the children’s harmless prank. However, Steve seemed more amused than anything.

“Come on.” Steve ran a hand through his wet hair and jerked his chin towards the house. “I’ll get you a dry shirt.”

Tony looked down. His Black Sabbath T was soaked and clinging to his rather unimpressive chest. He wrung out some of the water, then followed after Steve as if his legs had a mind of their own, his heart pounding erratically.

So, Steve was going to get him a shirt. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

Tony knew he should say no. Sharing clothes carried a significant weight in their community. It was an intimate act. An additional way of scent marking. A way for alphas and betas to say ‘this person is important’ or ‘this person is taken.’

Did the teen have any idea what he was offering?

And why was Tony going along with it?

_Because you want to wear his claim_ , his mind whispered.

Tony was so caught up in his mental freak out that he hadn’t even realized he’d followed Steve up a flight of stairs and into his bedroom until it was already too late. Some distant part of his brain took note of a navy-blue bedspread, the multiple sports posters adorning the walls, and how well-organized the room was, but the rest of him was focused on one thing: the room smelled incredible. Steve’s scent was more concentrated here and Tony was immediately assailed with the strong, potent scent of alpha male. _Fuck_. His vision went hazy as his insides awoke with a terrible need. He wanted to rub himself all over the room. Wanted to wallow in it. 

Seemingly oblivious to Tony’s impending meltdown, Steve strode over to his dresser and pulled open the middle drawer. He grabbed his drenched shirt from the back of his neck and yanked it over his head, making the obscene muscles in his stomach and back flex enticingly. His abs were so cut they looked almost superhuman.

Tony was assailed with images of that chest heaving over him. Could see Steve pinning him down as he thrust into him.

“Here.” Steve grabbed a folded shirt from the dresser and handed it to Tony. “It doesn’t have a band logo on it, but it’s the best I can do.”

No, it didn’t have a band logo on it, but it did have something. Tony could make out what looked like the word ‘Rogers’ in big, white lettering, and underneath that, the number 40.

_He’s giving me his jersey._

That couldn’t be a coincidence, right?

God help him, the line between right and wrong was starting to blur alarmingly fast.

Ignoring the warning bells blaring in his head, Tony reached for the jersey. He was so wound up that he forgot to make sure that their hands didn’t touch. Or maybe he didn’t forget. Maybe he let their fingers touch deliberately.

A bolt of electricity shot through him at the contact.

_Alpha_ , his inner omega declared. **_My_** _alpha._

His instincts took over and a burst of omega pheromones flooded the air. Dawning horror filled him as his body instantly readied itself for the teenager and an uncomfortable rush of slick gushed out of him. _Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

He was in serious trouble.

He hadn’t produced slick in years. It was supposed to be a side effect of taking suppressants.

So how the hell was it happening now?

A deep rumble that sounded almost like a purr left the alpha’s chest. Steve’s eyes darkened as his nostrils flared and his pupils blew wide. The desire that took over his face was so fierce it was scary. Gone was the teen’s friendly demeanor. Standing in front of Tony now was two-hundred and twenty pounds of turned on alpha male.

Tony dropped the shirt and raced out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter got somehow almost longer than the first three combined... Let me know if you prefer them shorter. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Tony bolted down the hallway, barely paying attention to where he was going. He just knew that he had to get away. To flee.

But there was nowhere for him to run.

Rounding a corner, he stumbled on a bathroom and blindly hurled himself inside, locking the door behind him with shaking fingers. Not that the lock would do him any good. The alpha was easily strong enough to break down the door.

He knew what was going to happen. Could see the whole violent scenario playing out in technicolor inside his head.

Steve was going to come after him. Was going to—

 _Well, what did you expect?_ a voice in his head mocked. It sounded suspiciously like Obie. _You went into an alpha’s house—alone. You let him take you to his bedroom._

Society, the authorities…they’d all say the same thing. That he’d asked for it. That his pheromones had meant that he’d wanted it.

They wouldn’t believe a word out of the mouth of a disgraced omega. They’d call him a tease. A whore.

Sweat broke out on his forehead as he pushed his back against the wall, desperately wishing he could disappear through it. His heartbeat drummed like a gong in his ears, racing too fast for his body. His pheromones had been replaced with the bitter, acrid scent of fear.

He couldn’t breathe. Oh god, he couldn’t _breathe_.

“Tony?” Steve called out from the other side of the door.

“No, no, no.” Tony’s voice was edged with hysteria. He had no idea what he was saying. “I d-don’t want—please—stay away.”

“Okay,” the alpha agreed in a reassuring tone. “I’ll stay away. I promise I won’t come in, alright? But I don’t want to leave you alone right now. You sound like you’re having a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Growing dizzy, Tony dug his fingers into his hair, his breath too fast and too shallow. He still couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs. “I w-wear scent blockers, I do, b-but they aren’t working. I d-don’t want this, I don’t.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Steve said strongly. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who… I should have controlled myself better.” There was a pause before he repeated, “Now, I need you to listen to me, okay? Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

“Y-yes.” He’d started getting them after he’d been disgraced. After that-which-he-did-not-think-about.

“Then you know they’re only temporary. You’ve survived them before. I know they’re scary, but I’m gonna help talk you through it. I used to get nasty asthma attacks when I was younger, and breathing exercises really helped me cope. I’d like you to breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath and try to hold it for three seconds. When you exhale, let it out slowly for another three seconds, and then repeat those steps.”

Tony gazed blearily at the closed door. Why wasn’t the alpha breaking it down? Why was Steve helping him?

What was going on?

“Are you breathing?” Steve commanded. “I don’t hear you breathing.”

Dragging in a ragged breath, Tony forced himself to count to three. “I-I’m breathing,” he answered shakily.

“Good. You’re doing great. I’m gonna tell you about the time my dad and I took Bucky to the mall but I need you to keep breathing just like that. Can you do that for me?”

Tony was too compromised to even try to fight his desire to obey the alpha. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” There was another pause and the barest hint of movement outside the door. “So, this happened about five years ago, around Christmas. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…Buck used to have a big problem with biting. He chomped on damn near everyone. My mom wanted to get a photo of him on Santa’s lap, but she was too afraid that he’d bite the poor guy. Dad decided to secretly take Buck anyway, because he'd planned on giving her the photo as a surprise. He ended up dragging me along with him, and we waited in line for hours. Finally, it was Buck’s turn, and he was all happy to see Santa, and everything was working out, and right as they took the picture—WHAM—he projectile vomited butternut squash all over Mr. Kringle and his elf. The elf screamed, the other children screamed, and it started a chain reaction of puke. Kids were crying and vomiting. Parents were freaking out. The guy posing as Santa quit on the spot. We never ended up getting the photo, but it turned out to be okay, because when we confessed it all to mom, she was just happy Bucky hadn’t bitten anyone.”

“That…” Tony’s forehead creased, “is an awful story.”

“I know, but it’s distracting you, right?”

Tony blinked.

Dammit, it was.

His chest wasn’t nearly as tight and his dizziness was receding. “No comment,” he said, not wanting to admit it.

He thought he heard Steve make a soft sound of amusement on the other side of the door. “I guess I better keep talking then.”

And he did.

He talked to Tony about football and gave him a play-by-play of his latest championship game. He told Tony about his friend Sam and shared some of the amusing jokes he’d heard from him. And he told Tony about his military father. How the man had inspected the corners of Steve’s bed every morning to check that he’d made it correctly, because his father had believed that accomplishing the first task of the day was the number one secret to success.

Tony slowly calmed as he allowed himself to be comforted by the alpha’s voice. If Steve was going to come after him, he would have done it by now. Tony was starting to trust that he was safe.

Well, safe-ish.

He felt a stab of envy at how fond Steve sounded of his father. He wondered what it’d be like to actually have his parents’ approval.

As an alpha, Steve was probably the apple of his mother’s and father’s eye. Their golden child who could do no wrong. Tony pictured them all living together like one big, happy _Leave It to Beaver_ family.

“Are you close with your dad?” Tony found himself asking. The teen was exactly the type of son Howard would have preferred.

“…I was.” There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before Steve cleared his throat. “He died a couple of years ago. Went on a tour overseas and never came back.”

Oh, shit. Tony winced. He should’ve picked up on that. No wonder Steve had only spoken about the man in past tense. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Now he felt terrible for his snide _Leave It to Beaver_ thoughts. “Geez. I really know how to put my foot in my mouth, don’t I?”

“It doesn’t bother me. I like the way you ramble.”

 _Shields up, shields up._ Tony’s pulse spiked, which was bad, because he’d only just stopped it from racing. “Hey,” he burst out. “I don’t ramble. I talk incessantly, often trivially, but I don’t ramble.”

“Sure.” Steve chuckled and Tony could all but see the alpha smirking.

Tony’s comeback died on the tip of his tongue as he caught the unpleasant sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall. Not surprisingly, he looked small and flustered and his face was drawn and pale. He turned his eyes away.

He didn’t want to look at himself.

A chill climbed up his spine. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to stave off his goosebumps. His shirt was still wet and clinging to him and he was suddenly incredibly cold.

“Steve?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“I still need to change my shirt.”

“Hold on. I’ll get it for you.”

Tony listened to Steve’s padded footsteps as the alpha retreated down the hall. He returned a moment later with a light knock on the door. Pushing the door open only wide enough for his head to poke out, Tony chanced a glance at the alpha. The teen was no longer bare chested and had put on a white T-shirt—Tony thanked god for small mercies—and was holding his jersey in one outstretched hand. Tony snatched it and quickly shut the door again.

He stared at the teen’s name emblazoned on the fabric.

The sane, rational voice in his head was yelling at him not to wear it. Putting it on seemed counterproductive when the jersey was part of the reason he’d freaked out in the first place.

It was often said that omegas needed touch and connection to thrive, arguably even more so than others. Tony didn’t want to believe that. He didn’t want to need anybody.

But his instincts weren’t cooperating.

The weak, oversensitive part of him—the part that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how harshly he stomped it down—wanted to let the alpha take care of him. Wanted to wrap himself in the alpha’s scent and pretend that he belonged to somebody. That he was protected.

If only for a moment.

Obie had tried to control him under the guise of taking care of him. The damage had already been done before Tony had finally figured out the difference. The older man hadn’t loved him anymore than his parents had.

Giving in, he stripped off his wet T-shirt and slid the jersey over his head. The material all but swallowed him. It was about two sizes too big and hung halfway to his knees. It smelled clean, but he could still detect a trace of the alpha’s intoxicating, masculine scent.

And that pleased Tony more than it had any right to.

His inner omega was practically purring and rolling over onto its belly in bliss.

He liked having the alpha’s scent on him. Liked it so much it scared him.

But he couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever.

It was time to pick up the tattered remains of his dignity and face the teenager.

He could still feel the mortifying evidence of his slick drying on the back of his thighs—making his walk of shame even worse as he tentatively pushed open the door and slid into the hallway.

Steve stepped back, making space for him.

“Right.” Tony scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, his wet shirt balled up in the other. “Well, this is awkward.” He couldn’t quite look the alpha in the eye and found himself staring off to the side of Steve’s shoulder and throat instead. “How about we agree to forget what an embarrassing mess I just made of myself, and never speak of it again?”

Steve’s mouth tightened. “You’re not an embarrassing mess.”

 _Yeah, right_. It was weird. He’d basically received more positive reinforcement from Steve in one day than he had in his entire life, and he honestly didn’t know what to make of it. Ducking his head, “How, uh…how did you know it was a panic attack?”

“My mom is a nurse. I volunteer at the hospital a lot.”

Ugh. He volunteered at the hospital? Was there anything about this guy that _wasn’t_ perfect? “Oh. That’s nice.” Tony feigned a glance at his wrist even though he wasn’t wearing a watch. “Wow, would you look at the time? I can’t believe it’s so late already. I really should be going. I have important errands and, uh, business to attend to. Busy, busy, busy. That’s me.”

Steve didn’t look convinced, but to his credit, he let Tony get away with it. “Alright. I’ll walk you out.”

They found the kids in the living room, but Bucky and Nat weren’t in as big of a hurry to leave.

“Bucky!” Natasha cried, clinging to him.

“Tasha!” Bucky cried back. They were clutching each other like a pair of Siamese twins who couldn’t bear to be separated.

“Come on,” Tony said. “It’s time to go. I have to get you home for dinner.”

“No. I live here now,” Natasha stubbornly informed him.

“I asked her to move in,” Bucky confirmed.

“I think your parents might have something to say about that,” Tony told the redhead. “Now say goodbye to your friend. It won’t be forever. You’ll see him again.”

Nat didn’t budge.

“I’ll let you have ice cream for dessert.”

Nat perked up. “With sprinkles?”

“You drive a hard bargain, kid. But, yes, with sprinkles.”

Nat turned to her friend apologetically. “I’m sorry, Bucky, but I can’t say no ta sprinkles.”

“I understand,” he said solemnly, like the persuasive power of ice cream and sprinkles was simply too much for any one child to resist.

She laced up her shoes and Steve and Bucky escorted them to the door.

Tony could feel the alpha’s eyes following him as they walked down the driveway. The persistent sensation didn’t leave until they’d rounded the corner out of sight.

* * *

Tony ran a hand over Steve’s drawing as he tried to smooth out the paper.

He’d reflexively shoved it into the pocket of his shorts when the kids had attacked them with water guns.

It still had some water damage and the pencil was smudged in spots, but it was mostly unscathed. 

As soon as he’d arrived back at his apartment, he had showered and changed out of the jersey. It was currently buried in the back of his closet. He’d had to hide it to ensure that he didn’t do anything even more embarrassing. Like not so accidentally sleeping in it. Or burying his face in it and inhaling the alpha’s scent and becoming slick all over again.

God, he still couldn’t understand how the hell that’d happened.

 _You know why,_ a traitorous voice in his mind said. _He’s your_ —Tony cut the thought off before it could finish.

His sex drive wasn’t usually something he had to worry about. After starting on suppressants, it’d been all but dormant.

But Steve had changed all that.

After meeting the alpha at the pool, his body had suddenly come alive again. Now here he was, antsy and keyed up. Desperate for some kind of relief and equally as determined to ignore it.

He didn’t like touching himself.

Omega Finishing School had taught them that it was selfish. That ‘good omegas’ saved their pleasure for their alphas. In some places, it was even a punishable offense.

Tony thought that was a load of bullshit.

But the act always filled him with shame all the same.

He knew it wouldn’t be enough, anyway.

Not when he felt so empty and aching.

He hated the submissive nature of his desires. Hated that his heat could reduce him to a panting, begging mess.

Obie had got off on taking advantage of it. He had liked to wait until Tony was a sobbing, mindless mess before giving him even an ounce of relief. Until Tony had learned exactly how weak he was.

Tony resolved to try a different brand of suppressants. Maybe he’d even up his dosage.

He walked over to his waste bin and held the drawing out over it, but his fingers wouldn’t let the paper go.

He knew it was stupid to keep it, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out.

* * *

Tony struggled to balance his extra-large bucket of popcorn and root beer Big Gulp as he watched Rhodey take a phone call.

He couldn’t hear what his friend was saying, but from the look on Rhodey’s face, he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was about.

“Why,” Rhodey demanded, as he slid his phone back into his pocket and walked over to Tony, “does my mother’s neighbor think I work at something called ‘Rhodey’s Repair Shop’ and why does she want to hire me to fix her toaster?”

“Oh. Well. That. See, it’s a funny story, really—”

“Tony,” Rhodey said warningly.

“Congratulations.” He smiled weakly. “You’re the owner of your own repair shop?”

“I’m _what_?”

“I may or may not have set up a small business under your name so that I could make a little money on the side.”

Omegas weren’t allowed to run their own businesses. They weren’t respected or hired in most stereotypically ‘masculine’ trades, either. He’d had to do a little hacking and falsifying of documents to get the business started. He was posing as Rhodey’s assistant, but after the customers dropped off their small electronics—meeting with him in a public place so as to not give away his address—he was secretly fixing them himself.

It was one of the only ways to get paid for doing what he loved. Tinkering with things. Building things. Fixing things.

Of course, his talents were still wasted on such menial tasks…but it was better than nothing.

“You won’t have to do any of the work,” he continued. “I’ll take care of everything, I promise. You weren’t supposed to receive any phone calls. I only posted the business line on the company website.”

Rhodey’s brows flew into his hairline. “There’s a company website?”

“…And business cards.”

“Of course there are.” Rhodes shook his head. “Why did I even ask?”

Tony shifted his weight guiltily. “Do you want me to shut it down?”

“No.” Sighing, Rhodey looked at him in his familiar what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you way. “I think you deserve the right to run your own company, you know that. I just wish I’d been given some warning. It’s safer if I’m in on this.”

“I meant to tell you. I just forgot. I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”

“Preoccupied with what?”

 _Steve_. “Life.” The teenager was all he could think about. It was so bad that he was being plagued by an itch under his skin like the alpha was actually there.

Hell, the handsome blond coming out of the arcade even looked like him.

 _Oh_. Tony sucked in a breath. That’s because it _was_ him.

Steve was walking alongside a group of three other teenagers—one guy and two girls.

How was it possible that Tony kept running into him? The alpha seemed to be everywhere. Tony couldn’t escape him.

The universe must’ve been having a real good laugh at his expense. _Thanks a lot, universe._

 _Maybe he won’t see me,_ Tony thought, attempting to hide his face behind his giant bucket of popcorn.

As if the alpha had somehow read his mind, Steve’s head jerked up and his blue eyes locked on him. Flashing his perfectly white, movie star grin, the blond made a beeline towards Tony. The bustling crowd of movie goers instinctually parted for him as he headed Tony’s way—but that was nothing new. It was no different than the reaction the alpha always received at the pool. Something about Steve Rogers seemed to command awe and attention from everyone around him.

Tony couldn’t see his own expression, but he was 99 percent sure that he looked like a deer caught in headlights. His stomach knotted as Steve reached him.

“Hey,” Steve said. “I saw you over here and wanted to say hi.”

“Hey,” Tony mumbled back.

The teen’s gaze flickered to Rhodey, and for the briefest of moments, Tony could’ve sworn an almost imperceptible chill had moved through the air. “What movie are you seeing?”

“The new Nick Fury action flick.” Nick Fury was a big Hollywood star. He was best known for his series of popular spy movies.

“Nice. I was hoping to see that, but we’re seeing Under Siege, instead. It’s the girls’ turn to pick the movie tonight.”

Tony nodded mechanically, taking a long sip of his drink—because his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth—but that only seemed to draw Steve’s attention to his lips, so he quickly stopped. “Your shirt,” he found himself blurting out. Cheeks burning, he clarified, “I, um, still need to return it.”

How was it possible that he was capable of doing math that could make Albert Einstein’s head spin, yet he couldn’t act normal around one (admittedly gorgeous) eighteen-year-old?

“Keep it.” Steve’s eyes warmed. “It hasn't fit me since JV year. Besides, it looks better on you.”

“Steve!” one of the girls called out. “Come on! The movie is going to start!”

Steve glanced her way before turning back to Tony. “I’ve got to go.” He sounded almost regretful. “Peggy will kill me if we miss the opening credits. It was good seeing you.” And with a nod of his chin, the blond was gone.

Tony watched as he returned to his group of friends. Steve slid a casual arm around the shoulders of a pretty brunette and said something that Tony couldn’t hear. She rolled her brown eyes at him but the affection in them was clear.

Tony wondered if that was ‘Peggy.’ He was surprised to note that she was also an alpha.

Alphas didn’t typically date other alphas. It was frowned upon but not unheard of. There were still those who believed it was ‘unnatural,’ but it wasn’t illegal like it had been 50 years ago.

Besides, Steve didn’t seem like the type who’d be scared off by another alpha’s strength. Some men refused to date female alphas—it threatened their manhood—but Tony doubted Steve was one of them. Especially when Peggy was so gorgeous.

And, Tony noted with a pang, age appropriate.

She had glossy, shoulder length brown hair and the kind of cheekbones that graced the pages of magazines. Her lips were painted a strawberry red, and her vintage T was tucked fashionably into her high waisted jean shorts.

She and Steve looked perfect together. They were both the kind of good looking that wasn’t achievable by most mere mortals. They fit into each other’s worlds.

Tony’s throat tightened. All at once, he felt wistful and very, very old.

“Who was that?” Rhodey asked suspiciously. “And why do you have his shirt?”

“Water gun mishap,” Tony said, like that somehow explained it. “And he’s no one important. He’s the older brother of Nat’s friend.”

“I don’t like him. You need to be careful around him.”

 _Tell me something I don’t know_. “Aww,” he teased, trying to play it off. “Are you jealous, Rhodey-bear? Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite alpha.” 

“I’m serious, Tony. He was looking at you like you were a ribeye steak and he didn’t care if I knew it. I thought he was going to beat his chest and challenge me to a duel. The last thing you need is another controlling douchebag.”

Tony bristled. He thought of Steve coaching him to breathe through the bathroom door. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but he didn’t like Rhodey calling the younger alpha a douchebag. “He’s not all that bad. He seems like a pretty okay guy, especially, you know, considering he’s still a teenager and everything. He’s definitely less obnoxious than most.”

“Teenager?” Rhodey asked skeptically.

“He’s eighteen.”

“Eighteen?!” Rhodey echoed. “Jesus, you’ve got to be kidding me. That is the most freakishly evolved teenager I’ve ever seen. He looks like a professional linebacker.”

 _Therein lies my struggle_.

“Still…” Rhodey continued, “teenager or not…that doesn’t make him harmless. Promise me you’ll let me know if he starts giving you trouble.”

“…I promise,” Tony reluctantly replied.

But it was already far too late for that.

* * *

“I’m feeling major secondhand embarrassment right now,” cringed Darcy, as she eyeballed Amara across the pool. The older woman was trying to flirt with Steve. She kept reaching out and ‘accidentally’ patting his biceps. She was holding a bottle of suntan lotion and seemed to be angling for him to apply it to her back. “She’s gotta know by now that he’s not interested.”

Tony kept his eyes trained on where Nat and Bucky were sword fighting with giant, foam pool noodles in the water. It was easier than acknowledging the absurd, territorial envy gnawing at him.

“Yep. Just what I thought,” Darcy continued, as Amara stomped huffily past them and back to her pool chair. “Denied. Ouch, that’s gotta hurt. Though, I’m not sure I can blame her. I’d probably try throwing myself at him too, if I thought he might catch me. That’s one hunka hunka burnin’ abs.”

Tony grimaced. “Elvis didn’t die so that terrible pun could live.”

“You should go over there. I bet Steve wouldn’t say no to rubbing suntan lotion all over _your_ back.”

“I think he’d rather have Peggy do it,” Tony sniped, surprised by how uncharacteristically catty he sounded.

“Who’s Peggy?”

Shrugging, Tony attempted to appear nonchalant. “I ran into him at the movies the other night. He was there with a couple of girls.”

“Oh.” Darcy temporarily deflated. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Did he explicitly state that he was dating them? You should really ask him before you start moping about it.”

“I’m not moping. And I refuse to ask him anything.”

“That’s too bad…’cause he’s on his way over here right now.”

Tony scoffed, assuming that Darcy was just messing with him, until the alpha’s shadow inevitably fell over him. “Tony—hey,” Steve’s deep voice rolled through him.

Steve was already a lot taller than him, and their height difference was only emphasized further by the fact that Steve was standing while Tony was sitting. The alpha looked positively gigantic. And every bit as tempting as usual.

“H-hey, Steve.” Tony’s head snapped up as he scrambled to his feet in an attempt to feel less tiny. “Fancy running into you here.” _Idiot. He **work** s here._ _Where else would you run into him?_

Steve ran a hand over his jaw. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh, sure.” His heart gave an unwanted lurch of anticipation. “About what?”

“Bucky broke his tablet, but he won’t let us take it in for repairs because he wants you to fix it. He thinks you’re some kind of tech whiz. He keeps talking about how you built Natasha a dancing robot…?”

“Oh. That,” Tony laughed nervously. “Yeah, that was nothing but a little robotics, sensory feedback, and information processing. Simple, really. Anyone could have done it.”

“Right. Simple,” Steve said back, looking like he’d never heard the words ‘sensory feedback’ in his life. “Look, I was hoping you could help us out. We’re more than happy to pay you for your trouble. I wouldn’t expect you to fix it for free.”

“Let me get this clear,” Tony blinked. “You want me to fix Bucky’s tablet? And you’re willing to pay me to do it?”

Nobody had taken his skill set in engineering seriously since before he’d presented. They’d all just assumed that the only thing he was good for was cooking, cleaning, and pushing out babies.

During the time he’d been mated to Obie, he’d been banned from building or designing anything. He hadn’t been allowed to set foot into the older man’s workshop or to so much as look at a wrench. The older alpha had once locked Tony up for days without food or water because he’d dared to offer a suggestion on the man’s latest project.

He could see now that Obadiah had been threatened by him. Scared that Tony would end up better than him at his own job.

“Yeah,” Steve said casually. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No.” Tony pushed down a ridiculous burst of happiness. “I can definitely help. Most places would just overcharge you. You don’t even have to pay me. I’ll do it for free.”

“I’m still paying you,” Steve insisted stubbornly. “Are you going to be here tomorrow? I’ll bring the tablet with me.”

“Uh, probably. I don’t think Nat would let me _not_ be here.” That girl spent so much time swimming she was in danger of morphing into a deep-sea creature soon.

Steve nodded. “Great. We should exchange numbers. That way, you’ll know how to reach me.” A sly smile crept over the alpha’s face. “And I can ring you if we ever need any more repair work.” 

Tony stilled.

Had this all been a scheme to get his phone number?

And, more importantly, did he _want_ to give Steve that information?

 _You’re reading too much into this_ , he tried to tell himself.

Perhaps the request was perfectly innocent. Maybe Steve really did just want him to fix his little brother’s tablet. Afterall, the teen had countless women (and most likely just as many men) throwing themselves at him every day. What could he possibly see in Tony?

Sure, Steve had reacted to his pheromones. But that didn’t mean anything. Alphas were biologically programmed to respond to an omega’s scent.

“…Okay,” Tony heard himself agreeing. His blood was pounding in his ears so loudly that he was barely aware of what happened next. He remembered rattling off his number and being unable to stop his fingers from shaking as he programmed Steve into his contact list as ‘The Lifeguard’.

And then Steve had turned weirdly serious.

“Listen, about the other night…” the teen’s expression was unreadable, and he seemed to be holding himself unnaturally still. “You and that alpha…are you and he—you weren’t on a date, were you?”

“A date?” Tony repeated incredulously, smothering a laugh. “With Rhodey? No. God, no. He’d never be interested in me that way. We’re practically brothers. I’ve known him since kindergarten. We used to make macaroni art together and scratch each other’s chickenpox—true story.”

The alpha relaxed. “Good.”

Tony suddenly didn’t find the question so funny.

 _Good? Why is that good?_ he wanted to demand, but he was afraid to know the answer. Instead, he bit the inside of his lip and said, “And, uh, Peggy? She’s pretty. Like really, _really_ pretty. Are you and she…?”

“We were, for a while, but we decided we work better as friends.”

“Oh.” Tony didn’t know if he believed that. Who stayed friends with their exes? 

“Besides,” the alpha said pointedly, the corners of his mouth hiking up. “I’m interested in someone else. Someone a little older.” And then the handsome jerk walked off, leaving like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in Tony’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I hope this chapter wasn't a let down. I think some of you guys were expecting some action to happen but I want this story to be a slow burn.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter! This is my first time writing for this pairing so I've been pretty nervous to post here, but your comments left the biggest smile on my face. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Tony sprinkled a light dusting of brown sugar over a bowl of oatmeal and berries and set it down in front of Natasha.

“Thank you, Nanny Tony.” She smiled angelically and stuck a spoonful into her mouth. One of her creepy American Girl dolls was perched on the table next to her. Nat had mutilated the poor thing almost beyond recognition. It had an eye missing, half of its hair had been ripped out, and it was covered in scorch marks, but she still refused to part with it. Its lone, remaining eye seemed to follow Tony wherever he went, as if silently begging to be put out of its misery. He couldn’t decide whether it was cute or harrowing when Nat lifted a spoon to its mouth and pretended to feed it. “Berries are full of antioxidants,” she told the doll.

He wanted to warn her not to feed that thing after midnight. He was afraid it would morph into its next evolutionary stage like a gremlin and wreak havoc everywhere.

His phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, and he reached over to grab it, grateful for the distraction. He had three messages from Darcy, one from Rhodey that simply read: _stop sending me videos of CGI cats doing the macarena_ , and one from a number he hadn’t been prepared to see.

 **The Lifeguard:**  
_Hey, it’s Steve. Good morning._

Tony’s eyes widened as a confusing mix of hope and panic clashed inside him. Other than a brief, hurried 60 seconds when he’d collected Bucky’s tablet, Tony had barely spoken to Steve since the teen had dropped an unwanted truth bomb on him.

The teen’s words had been playing over and over in Tony’s mind. He thought back to the direct, intentional way Steve had held his gaze as he’d said, _“I’m interested in someone else. Someone a little older.”_

He didn’t want to believe that Steve had been talking about him, but most of the arrow signs were pointing towards yes. Tony may have been on good terms with his old friend Denial, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. As he reflected on every interaction he’d ever had with the teen, he found himself facing the very distinct possibility that Steve Rogers was pursuing him.

The most gorgeous, capital ‘A’ alpha Tony had ever met actually _wanted_ him.

What he couldn’t understand was why.

Steve could have chosen anyone. Someone younger. Someone better looking. Someone who wasn’t disgraced.

They were wrong for each other on every level…but maybe that was part of the appeal for Steve. Maybe the alpha was tired of all the squeaky clean, perfect betas and omegas practically handing themselves to him on a platter. Maybe he liked the idea of ‘slumming it’ with an older, disgraced omega.

Whatever the reason was, Tony was sure that the novelty would wear off soon. Steve would realize that Tony wasn’t worthy of his attention and would inevitably return to his shinier, perkier peers.

In the meantime, though, Tony was still freaking the fuck out. He had even less of an idea now of how to act around Steve than before.

Debating whether or not to respond to the teen’s message, Tony stared down at his phone. He didn’t want to encourage him.

 _Yes, you do_ , a shameless voice in his mind taunted. He ignored it and put it on mute.

 **Tony:** _  
Sorry, the tablet isn’t fixed yet._

There. That was a safe reply, right? He wasn’t making conversation and had gotten straight to business.

His phone buzzed with a response almost immediately.

 **The Lifeguard:**  
_No rush. Take your time. I just wanted to say hi._

Ugh, of course he did. The polite, charming asshole.

 **_Tony:_ ** _  
Okay… Hi._

 **The Lifeguard:**  
_Are you coming to the pool today?_

 **Tony:**  
_No. We’re having an arts and crafts day instead._

 **The Lifeguard:  
**: (

Biting back a grin, Tony extinguished the spark of warmth that was attempting to take hold of him. There was something undeniably amusing about seeing Mr. Tall-and-Strapping-Perfect-Alpha using a silly emoji.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor alerted Tony to Nat’s attempt to sneak away from the table.

“Where do you think you’re going, little lady?” he said with mock seriousness. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Freezing, Natasha hit him with her best wide-eyed look of innocence. “May I be excused, please?” she recited.

“Yes, you may. Please take your dish to the sink.”

Nat stood on her tiptoes to place the aforementioned dish into the sink, and then cradled her unholy doll in her arms before prancing away.

Tony’s phone buzzed again.

 **The Lifeguard:  
** _I have to go. Coach doesn’t like us to take our phones onto the pool deck. Have a good one, Tony. I’ll talk to you later._

Talk to him later? Tony wished he wouldn’t.

And why was Steve explaining himself to Tony like Tony was some overeager girlfriend who’d devolve into a tailspin if Steve didn’t text him back for a few hours?

 _You like it_ , the same shameless voice corrected him. _You like when he gives you attention_. His damn mute button must’ve been broken. Tony booted the voice out of his head and went about his day.

He didn’t hear from Steve again until 10:30 that night.

He was working on fixing Bucky’s tablet—and trolling Rhodey with more cat videos—when his phone lit up with a new message.

 **The Lifeguard:**  
_Are you still awake?_

Then, 30 minutes later…

 **The Lifeguard:**  
_Guess not. Missed you at the pool today. Goodnight, Tony._

Tony forced himself to ignore the messages, but he couldn’t help but feel oddly affected by them. They niggled at something in his chest, filling him with longing. It was both nice and unusual for someone to take such an interest in him. To wish him good morning and goodnight, and to care about his day.

Tony had spent most of his life feeling trapped, alone, or adrift. Like he had no real place in the world. Like he was so insignificant that his death or disappearance wouldn’t make even the faintest difference. The world would just keep on moving. And no one would miss him. Not really.

So, it was strangely comforting to know that someone was out there thinking of him—even if that person was a barely legal 18-year-old who Tony had no business talking to. Even if any kind of future concerning the two of them was already doomed.

After finishing up with the tablet, Tony reluctantly climbed into bed. He re-read Steve’s messages and fell asleep clutching his phone, feeling weirdly more and less alone at the same time.

* * *

 _Tablet’s fixed_ **,** Tony texted Steve the very next morning.

He was planning on returning it and cutting all ties with the alpha, and was so focused on his phone that he missed Nat running up to him. Which resulted in him being showered in a handful of bluish-green glitter.

“It’s mermaid dust!” Nat declared delightedly. “Ta-da! You’re a merman now!”

“Where did you get that?” he coughed, glaring at the hazardous pack of glitter tubes she was holding. He was pretty sure he’d accidentally sucked some of the stuff into his lungs.

“Mama got it for me.”

Great. Nice of her parents to warn him. Now he’d be vacuuming glitter out of every nook and cranny in the house for the next month.

“What did I tell you about glitter?” he reminded her.

“That I hafta be careful with it ‘cause it’s messy,” she said guiltily. Her lower lip trembled. “Are you going to take it away from me?”

“Not if you promise to stop throwing it around.” He shook more glitter out of his hair. “And get me the dustpan. We need to sweep this up.”

Nat brightened. “I promise.” She held up two crossed fingers. “Cross my heart an’ hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” Then she skipped off to fetch the dustpan.

“We really need to find you a happier, less morbid rhyme,” he called after her. That girl was well on her way to becoming a modern-day Wednesday Adams.

All of a sudden, ‘Teenage Dream’ by Katy Perry started blaring out of Tony’s phone, stopping him in his tracks. Darcy, being the annoying friend that she was, had set the song as Steve’s ringtone. Tony hadn’t bothered changing it because he hadn’t thought the teen would actually call him.

He lifted his phone to his ear, his eyebrows furrowing and his heart thumping. “Why are you calling me?” he demanded, through a too tight throat.

“…Am I not allowed to call you?” came Steve’s amused sounding reply. His voice was every bit as masculine and un-teenage-like over the phone as it was in person.

It made Tony want to have phone sex with him. Or any kind of sex, really. And holy sweet mother of mercy, he needed to stop that train of thought right now. “I thought the youth of today only communicated via texting,” he grumbled.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” Steve admitted, sounding so earnest that Tony suddenly had to stop his pathetic, abused heart from growing three sizes like he was a character in one of Natasha’s favorite Dr. Seuss books.

He lost control of the conversation after that. By the time he finally hung up, he’d somehow been smooth talked into agreeing to meet up with Steve and Bucky at the park. It had been Steve’s idea. That way, Tony could drop off Bucky’s tablet, and Nat and Bucky could spend some playtime together.

“All done!” Nat let the dustpan clatter to the floor. In true little kid fashion, she’d somehow only made more of a mess, despite a genuine attempt to help.

Tony blinked, still bewildered by how easily the alpha had railroaded their phone call. “Do you want to go to the park to see Bucky?”

Nat stilled, as if her excitement was too much to process at once, and then she tore off towards the front door like she couldn’t understand why they weren’t at the park already.

“Right,” Tony said wryly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

* * *

 _It’s not a date_ , Tony told himself.

Well, okay…technically it was _kind_ of a date. But it was just another playdate for the kids. And nothing else.

_Maybe I should just avoid the word ‘date’ altogether…_

“Hurry up, Nanny Tony, you’re too slow,” Natasha tugged at his hand, attempting to drag him behind her. She’d been bouncing along at the pace of a speed demon since they’d left the house. He was having to practically jog to keep up with her. “I’m not gettin’ any younger.”

“Give me a break, kid,” he panted, struggling to follow her uphill. “You’re seven. I’m almost 30. I’m not cut out for this kind of cardiovascular endurance anymore.”

But Nat didn’t take pity on him. If anything, she sped up even more.

She had made Bucky a mermaid crown during their arts and crafts session the other day and was clearly excited to show it to him. Her own crown was currently sitting on her head.

Finally reaching the top of the grassy hill, Tony was met with the sight of the park down below. Nat let go of his hand and made a mad sprint for Bucky. The brown-haired boy had been playing on the jungle gym, but as soon as he saw her, he jumped down and raced towards her as well.

Tony snorted. The only thing missing was the cheesy music, and the two could’ve been reenacting every fraught, dramatic reunion on every soap opera ever. He watched as Nat gave Bucky his mermaid crown. It was decorated with shiny pink and aqua beads, seashells, purple seahorses, and glittery gold starfish. Tony had been slightly worried that Bucky wouldn’t like it. Thanks to the gender roles imposed on society, there were plenty of little boys who’d find it ‘too girly.’ However, Bucky’s little chest actually seemed to puff up as he let Nat put it on his head. He seemed delighted that she’d made him something.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a male voice said, jerking Tony’s attention away from the kids.

“I couldn’t exactly stay away.” Tony attempted to stay calm, even though, internally, he was anything but. “If I deprived Nat of seeing Bucky, she’d turn on me in a second. I’d become the most hated nanny in America. So, yeah…that’s why I’m here. For Nat, and Nat alone. It has nothing to do with me wanting to see you.”

Ah, Christ. Foiled once again by his own rambling. Did that sound as unconvincing to Steve’s ears as it did to his own?

A brilliant grin stretched over Steve’s face. It was so bright it almost hurt to look at it. He appeared younger in that moment—brimming with optimism and a willingness to seize life in the way only a teenager could. He was so gorgeous and unattainable it made Tony’s stomach hurt.

 _Too good for me_ , Tony thought. He’d only bring Steve down. Bring him darkness.

Too make matters worse, it was as if Steve somehow knew Tony had a weakness for him in blue, because he was wearing a blue jersey with his name across the back, and a matching baseball cap of the same color. His broad shoulders were so wide they were practically casting a shadow over the park, and he was holding two cups of Starbucks.

“I got you a coffee.” The teen held out a cup towards Tony.

“Ah, yes. Caffeine.” Tony gingerly took the cup. “My favorite food group.”

“Not sure it qualifies as a food group,” Steve smirked.

Inhaling the heavenly aroma of roasted coffee beans, Tony hesitantly brought the drink to his nose. On one hand, yay, free coffee. But on the other…he had a cardinal rule never to accept drinks from people he didn't trust. And unlike the time at Steve’s house, where he’d been able to watch the alpha make the drink, he couldn’t confirm that it was safe.

Anything could’ve been done to it.

Except…

Except Steve wasn’t like other alphas. He’d already had plenty of chances to show his nasty side. To take advantage of Tony.

And he hadn’t.

Shocked at his own willingness to take such a leap of faith, Tony lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Warm, perfect coffee greeted him and he decided to just accept Steve’s generosity for what it was. “This is good. Thank you.” He was used to drinking 99 cent instant sludge. He couldn’t afford anything else.

“Anytime,” Steve said easily.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” Remembering the tablet he was lugging around, Tony handed Steve a small, black knapsack. “Here. The screen’s as good as new. I also tweaked some of the glitches in the operating system. It should run faster and hold a longer battery life now.”

“Great. Buck’s going to love it.” Steve accepted the knapsack and placed it down onto the park bench so that he could grab his wallet out of his back pocket.

The next thing Tony knew, he was staring at a stack of 20-dollar bills. His eyes widened as he counted what must’ve been at least 200 dollars. 

“Here.” Steve tried to push the money at him.

“Whoa, hey. Aren’t you going to look at it first?” Tony asked in disbelief. “You, know, turn it on? Check that it works?”

“No. I trust you.”

“That’s real nice and not something many people would say—seriously, you should probably reconsider that statement—but I’m not letting you pay me 200 dollars for something I could’ve fixed in my sleep.”

“Take the money, Tony.” His jaw was set in resolve. “You did a job for me and you deserve to be compensated for your time.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Steve lifted a serious brow. “Are you sure you want to argue with me? I can do this all day.”

And in that moment, Tony believed him. The alpha looked as implacable and unmovable as Mount Rushmore.

Their little disagreement was even starting to attract some unwanted attention from the two other adults at the park. Though Tony had a feeling the 40-year-old park moms would be staring at Steve anyway. They were eyeballing the alpha in a manner that seemed to suggest that they’d be imagining Steve when they lay with their mates later that night.

He didn’t know if it made him feel less perverted that so many older women were also equally affected by the teenager. Mostly, it just made him feel jealous.

Tony huffed. “Fine.” He gave in and stuffed the money into his pocket, ignoring the urge to knock Steve’s triumphant grin off his perfect face.

They fell into a short silence after that, sipping their coffees and watching the kids—Nat and Bucky were taking turns pushing each other down a big, yellow slide—until Steve broached another topic.

“So, Tony, tell me about yourself,” the alpha began conversationally. His tone was casual, but he was looking at Tony with a little too much interest. “What do you do in your free time? What are some of your hobbies? I know you’re smart as hell and like building things, but I want to know more.”

The questions threw Tony. They were exactly the kind of thing someone might ask on a first date. _You weren’t going to mention the word ‘date’ again, remember?_ “Oh. Uh, there’s nothing much to tell, really. I’m a pretty uninteresting guy.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Challenge accepted. He was going to make Steve eat his words. “Well, since becoming a nanny, I’ve been finding my priorities shifting at an alarming rate. Every day I slip a little more into Suzie Homemaker mode. I spend my days cooking, cleaning, and sorting laundry. My google search history is full of endless questions like ‘How to trick kids into eating vegetables,’ and ‘How to get grape juice and grass stains out of white clothing.’ Recently, I tried inventing my own cleaning solvent. I shared it online, but MomOfTheYear09 claimed that it didn’t work—even though she clearly hadn’t followed my directions correctly—and when I asked her why she wasn’t Mom of The Year _every_ year, she blocked me. And that pretty much sums up my last month. Other than meeting you, of course.” There. What teenager could possibly find any of that stuff appealing? Hopefully Steve would see how ill-suited they were and would stop talking to him.

But it wasn’t the turnoff Tony had hoped it’d be. Instead of reacting like any sane 18-year-old and running for the hills, Steve somehow looked even _more_ charmed by Tony. Like the alpha could listen to him talk all day.

“So…” Tony blew out a frustrated breath. “What about you? What do you like to do in your free time?”

“I like football, running laps on the beach, and 27-year-old nannies who build robots.”

Well, fuck. If Tony’d had any doubt that ‘someone a little older’ had meant him, it had just been obliterated. Apparently, Steve wasn’t even attempting to be subtle anymore. _TURN BACK_ , Tony’s brain shouted. _DEAD END AHEAD_. “And, uh, exactly how many 27-year-old nannies who build robots do you know?” Maybe he’d get lucky and Steve would magically be talking about someone else.

“Just one.”

Okay, now would be the time to say something—to mention that the teen’s advances weren’t appropriate. He highly doubted that Steve would be crushed by the rejection. The teen would probably shrug it off and move onto one of his many admirers faster than Tony could spell motherboard. Scoffing, Tony pulled his gaze away from Steve and stared off into the horizon instead. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but you have terrible taste.”

“I think I have great taste.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re irritatingly stubborn?”

“Once or twice. It didn’t do them any good,” Steve answered back, and then, out of nowhere, he added, “You’ve got a bunch of sparkly stuff stuck to your face.”

Tony felt his neck burn. Freaking glitter. He’d thought he got it all off, but apparently not. “Where?” he roughly swiped at his face.

Steve motioned towards him. “May I?”

Tony’s heart upticked at the thought of the alpha touching him. It was a bad idea that would surely end disastrously for him, but he found he couldn’t say no. Swallowing, he nodded his permission. _Bad, Tony. You’re supposed to be rejecting his advances._

Steve reached down to brush the glitter off Tony’s cheek with his thumb, but Tony’s body took over, remembering all the not-so-pleasant ways alphas had touched him in the past, and he flinched back like a coward at the last second.

Steve dropped his hand, hurt.

“Sorry,” Tony muttered, kicking himself for being a nervous, jumpy idiot.

“You’re scared of me,” Steve said, face tight. There was something alarmingly perceptive darkening his blue eyes and causing his jaw to clench. Like he suspected exactly what might cause someone to flinch away from being touched. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Tony weirdly found himself wanting to soothe the alpha. “Don’t take it personally. I’m, uh, kind of messed up.”

Steve scowled. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

The teen paused, seemingly frustrated. “I want to tell you something,” he said after a couple of seconds. “You make me nervous, too. It’s not easy to get you to talk to me. I wanted to impress you so much today that I googled a list of conversation starters.” Ears pinkening, he readjusted his baseball cap. “‘What do you do in your free time? What are some of your hobbies?’” he echoed. “I practiced asking you that.”

Whoa. Steve had googled how to ‘woo’ him? That was…well, Tony didn’t really know how to process that. He wasn’t used to alphas telling him things like that. Wasn’t used to them allowing themselves to be vulnerable. _I make him nervous, too?_ It might’ve been a line, but Tony didn’t think so. Steve seemed far too sheepish for it to be an act, even if it was hard to believe. Tony’s lips twitched, and before he knew it, he was smiling at Steve. A real smile—guarded and tentative, maybe, but real. The first one he’d given him.

And for a small moment, all was right with the world.

Until an outburst of kids yelling brought Tony back down to Earth.

Jerking his head towards the commotion, Tony found Bucky and Natasha being cornered by a slightly older girl. A blonde with her hair in two braids and the practiced sneer of a bully on her face said something to Natasha that Tony couldn’t hear, and Natasha pushed her to the ground. The blonde promptly burst into loud, wailing, crocodile tears.

Uh-oh.

“How dare you!” the girl’s mother screeched, launching herself off the park bench towards her daughter. “Don’t you dare push my baby!”

Tony rushed to intervene with Steve right behind him. “What happened?” he asked Natasha. Nat had a bit of a problem with lashing out in violence, sure, but she wasn’t one to do it unprovoked. “You know you aren’t supposed to push people.”

“She was being mean to Bucky!” Natasha cried. “She was makin’ fun of his hair and she called him the b-word! She said he was a omega b-word!”

 _An omega bitch_ , Tony thought, anger rolling through him. The blond girl should’ve been too young to know that insult yet, but he supposed her parents wanted to infuse her with prejudice early. “Is that true?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky nodded, visibly upset.

“Well,” the beta mother sniffed dismissively as she helped her sobbing offspring off the ground. “It’s no wonder my Emmaline got confused. This child has a completely inappropriate haircut for a young boy. You should take him to the barber and get a nice, clean, masculine cut. And take that…” she pointed to his mermaid crown like it personally offended her, “…that _thing_ off his head. It’s like you want to raise him soft. But then, I wouldn’t expect a disgraced omega to know how to properly raise a child. You have too many rights as it is.”

“Apologize.” Steve stepped protectively in front of Tony, Natasha, and Bucky. “Now.”

Tony had to admit that he quite enjoyed watching the woman quake under the force of Steve’s full alpha stare, but he didn’t need the teen to fight his battles for him. This woman was clearly one of those unfortunately numerous, wrong, and willfully ignorant people who believed that a male child could be ‘turned’ into an omega by something as stupid as how someone treated them. Like that had anything to do with it.

Tony stepped out from behind Steve. “That ‘thing’ is a mermaid crown and he can wear as many as he wants to, lady. And there’s nothing wrong with his hair, either. Men have had long hair since the dawn of time. The Ancient Egyptians had it. The aristocrats in Europe had it. The Vikings had it.” His eyes flew to the wooden cross the woman was wearing around her neck. “And you know who else had it? Jesus. Jesus is always depicted as having long hair.”

The woman gasped and clutched at her cross, scandalized. Bucky laughed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Tony affirmed. “I said what I said.”

“You dare speak to me with such disrespect, omega—” the woman started sputtering, but Tony cut her off.

“Apologize to this woman’s daughter,” he told Nat curtly. “We don’t use violence to solve our problems. Even against bullies who have picked up an unfortunate set of traits from their parents.”

“I’m sorry,” Nat said, feigning politeness.

“Good.” Addressing the woman, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we will be leaving. I hope we never run into you at the park again.” Turning on his heel, he stormed off, Bucky and Nat trailing behind him.

He didn’t slow his pace until they were a comfortable enough distance away. Christ, that woman had pissed him off him.

A deep male chuckle made him turn his head, and he was taken aback for a second by the way Steve was staring at him. He was suddenly very glad that they were still in public and that the kids were around as deterrents.

“What?” Tony asked, flustered.

“You. You’re so…” A wicked grin stretched across Steve’s handsome face. “That was really hot.”

Tony almost stumbled, attempting to cover it up with a cough.

Steve and Bucky ended up walking him and Nat back to her house.

As the kids were hugging and saying their goodbyes, Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and peered at Tony from under his baseball cap. “Can I call you tonight?” he asked, coming off more boyishly bashful than someone his size should be capable of.

“Why?”

“I like talking to you.”

 _Say no_ , Tony thought. _Say no. Say no. Say no._ But his vocal cords acted of their own volition. “I guess. If that’s what you want…” _Dammit._

He was _so_ officially fucked. 

* * *

“Boo. I miss Captain Handsome,” Darcy complained as she readjusted the balled-up towel she was using as a head rest. “I’m not feeling this new lifeguard. He better not be Steve’s replacement. I need my daily dose of biceps and triceps. This kid might turn out to be cute one day, but he looks too young. I’m not comfortable lusting over teenagers.”

The lifeguard in question was a young male of average size and build. He had a crazy mop of slightly curly brown hair and didn’t look a day over 17. He was wearing the same lifeguard uniform as Steve but it in no way had the same effect.

“Uh…Steve’s a teenager too,” Tony pointed out.

“But he doesn’t _look_ like a teenager. He looks like a man. A very built and manly man. I mean, have you _seen_ the size of his hands?”

 _Yes. Yes, I have._ “I’m sorry to break it to you, but I think there’s a flaw somewhere in that logic.”

“And I accept that.” Darcy stuck a straw into her lemon infused Sprite and took a sip. “Darcy logic is not meant for everyone.”

“Darcy also speaks in third person.”

“That she does.” She set down her drink and sighed. “The pool just won’t be the same without Steve to gawk at. I am woeful. I am feeling woe.”

“Relax,” Tony told her. “Steve still works here. He’s just off duty today.”

“Oh.” Darcy’s eyebrows rose with intrigue. “And how do you know that?”

“I, uh, overheard some staff members talking.” But that wasn’t true. Tony had actually heard it straight from the source. Against his better judgement, he’d somehow wound up talking to Steve on the phone for nearly half the night.

He had discovered that the alpha was slightly easier to talk to on the phone, as Tony didn’t have to fight against the full effect of his Steve-ness or worry about looking him in the eye. The teenager also had a surprisingly quick sense of humor and was easily able to keep up with Tony’s verbal sparring. Which only added to Tony’s distress, because he didn’t want to actually _like_ Steve on top of lusting after him.

“Mm-hmm.” Darcy didn’t look convinced.

Tony was saved from having to answer her by Natasha calling his name. “Nanny Tony! Nanny Tony! Help!” The redhead had managed to get her goggles twisted around her head.

He quickly hopped up and went over to help. “How does this thing keep getting so tangled?” He untwisted it and put it back into place. “We really need to get you a new pair.”

She just took a deep breath, plugged her nose with her fingers, and dived back under the water.

“Right. Happy to be of assistance,” he joked to the small, sloshing wave she’d left behind.

“I know how you can be of assistance,” an unfamiliar male voice chuckled. It was skeevy in the way that reminded Tony of the annoying catcalls he constantly received.

The guy looked no older than a frat boy and might’ve been handsome if he hadn’t oozed with fake, cocky charm. He was a leanly muscled beta and only slightly taller than average, but his presence felt bigger than that. More sinister. Especially when he advanced on Tony until he was well within Tony’s personal bubble. “Hey, pretty. I see you here almost every day, but I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Brock.”

“I’m Jarvis,” Tony lied, inching back.

Something ugly flared in Brock’s eyes like he knew that Tony wasn’t being honest. He quickly smoothed it away with a smarmy grin. “Listen, I’ll just cut to the chase. My friend and I are bored and we couldn’t help noticing that you look bored too. I think we should all be bored together. Why don’t you and your female friend join us for a nice, relaxing swim?”

“Sorry, fellas. I’m here in a strictly supervisory capacity. Maybe another time.”

Brock’s face darkened. “I’m not asking you to join me ‘another time.’ I’m asking you to join me **now**.”

“And I respectfully said no.” Tony tried to walk away but Brock grabbed him by the arm. _Why do so many people think they have the right to put their hands on my body?_

“Come on,” Brock demanded. “It’ll be fun. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I said no,” Tony said stiffly. He tried to yank his arm free, but Brock’s grip only tightened. Apparently, the assholes were out in full force this week. Lucky him.

“Am I not alpha enough for you?” Brock accused. “Is that it? I’ve seen you slavering all over that lifeguard. You come in here smelling the way you do, practically _begging_ for my attention, and then you spit in my face when I give it to you.” His nostrils flared angrily and his grip tightened again—this time to the point of pain. “You’re awful choosy for a disgraced bitch. You omegas always think you’re too good for us, but from that ink on your neck, I know that ain’t true.”

“I don’t think that at all. In fact, I can assure you that I have never once sat down and had a single thought about you, negative or otherwise.”

Incredulity flashed across Brock’s face—like he couldn’t quite believe Tony’s willingness to talk back—and then he practically snarled, turning red with rage.

Wondering why security wasn’t intervening, Tony looked towards the Not-Steve-Lifeguard. The younger guard seemed completely oblivious to what was happening. He was too busy being distracted by the bawling child beside him, who having a tantrum and screaming for her parents.

Or maybe the younger lifeguard _did_ know what was going on, and simply didn’t care. Maybe he saw that Tony was an omega and decided not to get involved.

It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

“Let go of my friend or I’ll pepper spray you,” Darcy said fiercely, appearing at Tony’s side and brandishing the black bottle of capsicum spray Tony had made her.

“Now why would I go and do a thing like that?” Brock asked sarcastically. Unfortunately, Darcy’s interference had only seemed to provoke him further. It was like he was enjoying himself even more now that he had an audience. “I’m just trying to get him to swim with me. Isn’t that what the pool is for—swimming? He’s here every damn day and I’ve never once seen him in the water.” He flashed his teeth at Tony in a cruel imitation of a smile. “That’s about to change.”

Pure fear seized Tony, turning his blood cold.

“What’s this?” Brock laughed, picking up on Tony’s visible panic. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the water…”

The words trailed off as Tony’s brain whited out in terror. Up until that point, he hadn’t been truly afraid of Brock. Frankly, after the likes of Howard and Obie, it took a lot to shake him, and this beta was Little League…but that was before Brock had threatened him with one of his biggest fears. Now, flight or fight had kicked in. Tony was on autopilot. He couldn’t hear what Brock was saying. He couldn’t even see Darcy lunging for him, trying to help, before she was swiftly grabbed by Brock’s friend.

All of his energy was directed at one thing. He had to get away from Brock.

_Oh, god. Oh, god. Not the water. I can’t go in the water._

He struggled, and he flailed, and he took multiple swings at Brock, but it all happened too fast. The beta still managed to wrangle him into his arms.

And then he threw Tony into the deep end. “Bomb’s away!” he yelled.

The water was a cold shock to Tony’s system. It swallowed him whole, pulling him down deeper and deeper.

Sinking. He was sinking.

Just like when he’d been six years old.

Howard’s voice flooded through him. “ _This life is sink or swim, son. I’ll make a man out of you yet.”_

And, suddenly, Tony could no longer tell the past apart from the present.

He was in his childhood backyard again. He was drowning in his parents’ pool.

He could feel the weight of Howard’s hand on the top of his head, pushing him back under, keeping him away from the surface.

His lungs burned with the need for air. And even though he knew he shouldn’t breathe in, he couldn’t help it. He gasped for breath and choked, sucking in water. _Laryngospasm_ , he thought. The water was causing him to cough and his vocal cords to spasm closed.

After his near-death experience as a child, Tony had developed an obsession with reading about other people who’d almost drowned. He’d read hundreds of articles, over and over again, memorizing all of them.

He knew that drowning didn’t look like drowning—not in the way it was typically depicted in the movies.

He knew that the Instinctive Drowning Response stopped people from voluntarily controlling their arm movements or for calling for help. That their heads were almost never above the water long enough to exhale, inhale, and still have time to call out.

He knew that his lack of oxygen, and the accumulating levels of carbon dioxide in his blood, would rapidly lead to him losing consciousness. He knew that his heart would struggle, becoming less and less effective at pumping blood throughout his body, until it eventually stopped.

He knew that he was going to die.

And just like before, he knew with an icy cold certainty that no one was going to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. Life has been kicking my butt a bit lately. The next chapter should hopefully come sooner.  
> Thanks again for all the comments/kudos/bookmarks. They encourage me so much. Just knowing that there are actually people out here who are enjoying this story and want to find out what happens next blows my mind and gives me the ultimate warm fuzzies.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony knew nothingness.

No light. No sound. No hope.

Only darkness.

It was a looming void creeping over him, and he was falling into it. Slipping away. Disappearing little by little.

He maintained only the instinctual sense that something was wrong— _gravely_ wrong—but he didn’t know how to pull himself back from the brink. Didn’t know how to wake himself up.

Or if he’d ever wake up again.

And then a voice broke through the black.

**“Come on, Tony. Come on. Breathe. Breathe, damn you.”**

It was an alpha’s voice. Dominant, commanding, and infused with raw power, and it made everything inside Tony lurch to obey.

His senses returned to him all at once.

His eyes shot open—and Tony had only a second to process that Steve’s mouth was covering his own, his big hands pressing down on Tony’s chest, forcing his body back to life—before he made a strangled, choking noise and spat up what must’ve been a gallon of water.

“Oh, thank god,” he heard a female voice gasp out. Darcy, perhaps?

Steve leaned back, his fingers going to Tony’s hair. “That’s it,” he urged, as Tony coughed and coughed, retching on chlorine and stomach acid until his airway was finally clear and he could greedily suck a breath into his lungs. “That’s it. Get it all out. You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Tony didn’t know how long he lay like that, the pool deck damp and cold against his back, as he accepted the alpha’s comfort, relishing in the simple miracle of being able to _breathe_ again. Every full, unimpeded breath felt like being reborn. Slowly, the burning in his chest lessened, the black spots dancing in front of his eyes disappeared, and he found himself able to process more of his surroundings.

Steve, Bucky, Darcy, Natasha, and Bruce—along with a few pool goers he didn’t know—were all gathered around him.

Brock and his cronies were nowhere in sight. They’d obviously fled the scene of the crime.

Everyone looked incredibly tense and on edge even though their faces were awash with relief.

Natasha was crying. She was buried into Bruce’s side, large tears sliding down her reddened cheeks. She wasn’t sobbing loudly, but there was something more painful about the quiet nature of her grief. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen her quite so distraught before.

To say nothing of the look on Steve’s face. There was gratitude and affection softening his features but the alpha also looked…well, he looked _wrecked_. Half-crazed. Like he was on the verge of losing it completely. His blues eyes were scanning obsessively over Tony, honing in on every detail, as if he could somehow commit every last pore, eyelash, and hair follicle to memory. As if his gaze could hold Tony there. Could keep Tony with him.

“Tony,” the teen chanted, his voice awed and reverent. “Tony.” His fingers flexed on Tony’s shoulder. He seemed like he wanted to reach for Tony—to pull Tony towards him—but was unsure whether or not he had permission. “Are you—?”

And just like that, Tony hit the limit on his emotional capacity. It was like his brain was failing to compute everything that had happened to him and so it just…didn’t. He shifted into autopilot, reverting to his tried-and-true defense mechanism of using wise-cracks as a weapon.

“Ah, geez, you kissed me, didn’t you?” he croaked out, batting Steve’s hand off his shoulder as he struggled to sit up. “That’s too bad. I usually like to be wined and dined before I let a guy perform a little CPR. I’m just not that kind of girl.”

The joke wasn’t exactly met with uproarious laughter. In fact, no one seemed willing to find humor in the situation at all.

Steve blinked at him. “Tony…?” he said again, sounding unsure, and if Tony wasn’t mistaken, also a little hurt.

“I heard you the first time,” Tony wheezed, trying to hide a wince as he inhaled sharply through his still sore lungs.

Of course, the wince didn’t go unnoticed by the alpha. “How are you feeling?” Steve demanded, looking like he was a hair-trigger away from snatching Tony up and inspecting him for any sign of injury like the world’s most overprotective parent. “Are you dizzy at all? Nauseous? Is your head hurting you? You inhaled a lot of water…”

Tony scowled. “I’m fine,” he protested. The last thing he needed was to be fussed over and coddled. He felt humiliated enough as it was.

He moved to push himself to his feet to demonstrate just how _fine_ he actually was, but it didn’t exactly go according to plan. A sudden head rush descended on him, almost toppling him back onto his ass.

Steve was at his side in an instant, his big hands steadying him. “Careful, baby. Take it easy,” the alpha’s breath tickled his ear.

A shiver worked its way up Tony’s spine.

 _Jesus_. Had Steve seriously just called him _baby_? Or was his brain even more waterlogged than he’d thought?

Either way, he wasn’t touching that particular comment with a 10-foot pole.

Normally, this much contact between him and Steve would have his pheromones rearing their ugly heads. Luckily—or, rather, unluckily, depending on how you looked at it—his body seemed too traumatized to react accordingly. It could only muster up a low thrumming of desire, instead of the so-horny-he-couldn’t-think-straight variety the teenager usually brought out in him.

Tony shrugged off the teen’s hold, ignoring the desperate way his inner omega whined, begging to stay in Steve’s arms. He’d barely pulled himself free before Natasha let out a small sob and dashed towards him. “Nanny Tony,” she whimpered, fusing herself onto his hip like a tiny, redheaded octopus.

And didn’t that just make Tony feel like five different types of shit.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Tony smoothed down her hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you, pumpkin. I’m alright.”

“Um, so…” a young sounding male spoke up nervously. “Should I call an ambulance?” It took Tony a second to recognize who the speaker was. It was the Not-Steve-Lifeguard. The one who’d been on duty when Tony had drowned.

Steve stiffened, something ruthless overtaking his expression as he speared the younger guard with a furious gaze. “Where were you? How the hell could you let this happen?”

The guard flinched, seeming to shrink in on himself.

“That’s a no-no word,” Nat sniffled, still glued to Tony’s side.

“She’s right,” Tony interjected awkwardly. “We say h-e-double hockey stick.”

Steve quelled Tony with an impatient glance and Tony had to stop himself from shrinking back too, because Angry-Steve was honestly kind of scary. No, actually, make that _a lot_ scary.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” the younger guard begged. “I was distracted. It’s a big pool. I didn’t know he was in trouble.”

“You got _distracted_?” Steve repeated harshly.

“I-I…it won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t,” Steve clipped. “Start looking for another job.”

Head dropping in shame, the younger guard gave a small nod of obedience.

Tony almost felt bad for the kid. But then, the guy had had one job—to keep people safe in the water—and he’d failed spectacularly at that.

And did Steve even _have_ hiring and firing power? Tony supposed it didn’t matter. When a high-level alpha like Steve Rogers gave you an order, you listened.

As it was, Tony was already having to physically restrain himself from responding to the insane levels of dominance in the air. The only reason he wasn’t falling to his knees and displaying his throat right now was because he was pretty sure Steve’s anger wasn’t really directed at him.

Or, at least, he didn’t think it was.

The alpha had always maintained a friendly and controlled demeanor around him. Tony had never seen this side of him before.

He didn’t know what to make of it, but he didn’t think he liked it.

He didn’t exactly have a good history when it came to being around angry alphas.

“Let’s go,” Steve told him.

“Go?” Tony blinked wildly. “Go where?”

“Hospital. You need to get checked out.”

“What? No. No hospitals.” Tony hated doctors. Hated being poked and prodded. And it wasn’t like he could afford health care. One checkup would set him back for months. “I told you, I feel fine.”

“You’re still at risk for—” Steve’s eyes darted to Nat, and his words cut off like he didn’t want to alarm her, before he repeated sternly, “You need to get checked out.”

Tony knew all too well what he was still at risk for. Hypoxemia (low levels of oxygen in his blood), pneumonia, or a buildup of fluid in his lungs. The last one was particularly ghastly, as it could cause him to still drown even hours after he’d been pulled from the water.

But Tony didn’t care about all of that.

The only thing he wanted was to lock himself inside his incredibly small lab in his even shittier apartment and forget this day ever happened.

And, hey, it wasn’t like this was his first close call with death. It was starting to feel old hat by now.

“Why are you even here?” Tony complained. “I didn’t think you were working today.”

“I’m not, but you said _you’d_ be here.” Then, voice going ragged and his eyes too intense, he added, “I…I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t shown up when I did. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You know, some might say you’re handling this a little poorly for a lifeguard. It’s like you’ve never seen anybody almost drown before.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “There was no _almost_ about it.”

“Eh. Tomayto, tomahto. Now you’re just splitting hairs.” Addressing the small crowd of strangers still gathered around him, “I mean, seriously? What’s with all the long faces? I’m alive and well, and as good as new. There’s nothing to see here, folks. Move along.”

One woman was even filming Tony on her phone, as if his trauma was little better than entertainment for her social media followers.

“I will smash that phone, lady,” Darcy informed her.

The woman quickly tucked her phone away, dispersing with the rest of the nosy stragglers. But, honestly, it wasn’t like she was any worse than the rest of the pool goers. The ones who were still tanning, swimming, or relaxing, and going about their day.

He was only a disgraced omega, after all. If something awful happened to him, it was hardly grounds for alarm.

They were probably disappointed he’d been resuscitated at all.

“Enough stalling,” Steve ordered, jaw pulsing. “Hospital. Now.”

At the hard glint of determination in Steve’s eyes, Tony felt the rest of his protests disappear in his throat. He was clearly facing down an unstoppable fucking force here. The alpha looked ready to die on this hill. Or worse.

“Alright. Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll go. Just...quit being so dang bossy.”

But Steve didn’t stop being bossy.

Nor was the trip to the hospital a smooth one.

He obviously didn’t want to drag the kids along with him to the emergency room—that was a surefire recipe for disaster—so he arranged for Darcy to look after Bucky, Bruce, and Nat for the rest of the evening. Only, Nat didn’t want to let him leave.

She’d screamed loud enough to burst Tony’s eardrums, clutching handfuls of his wet shirt into her tiny fists. “No! No! I wanna stay with Nanny Tony!”

He’d had to promise her a dozen times that nothing bad was going to happen to him and that she’d see him again soon. And even then, she’d only reluctantly let him go after Darcy had been forced to pull her away.

There’d also been the matter of his uncomfortably wet clothes. And because the universe did so love to rub salt into his wounds, he ended up having to change into the grey sweats pants and hoodie Steve kept in his locker. The track clothes were oversized enough as to be pajamas and they smelled like Steve, like _alpha_ and _safe_ , and Tony hated how much he didn’t hate that.

It was a whole confusing cycle of hate.

At least he’d been able to use the private staff locker room. Though he’d had to make a distinct effort to ignore the way Steve prowled around outside the door, guarding it like Tony was a modest maiden whose virtue needed protecting. (And, no, Tony would never admit that he’d almost, sorta, liked it. Or that his stomach had gone kind of soft from what his omega had perceived as the alpha looking after him.)

Steve had gone in after him, changing into a white muscle tank and black Adidas shorts and Tony also had to make a distinct effort not to check him out when he was done.

After that, Darcy had chucked him on the shoulder with a, “Glad you’re not dead, dude, that would’ve really sucked,” which in Darcy speak was about as close to a heartfelt confession as he was gonna get. And then he’d been loaded into Steve’s SUV and they were off.

* * *

"ID card, please,” a bored sounding receptionist droned. “What is your emergency?”

“He drowned,” Steve answered for him. “He was unresponsive for at least three minutes before I managed to resuscitate him.”

 _Three minutes_ , Tony thought. He’d hovered between life and death for three minutes.

He’d gotten lucky. Brain cells didn’t typically start to die until around 4-6-minutes after being cut off from oxygen. The thought of brain damage was scarier to him than that of actually dying. He couldn’t imagine who he’d be without his intelligence.

He didn’t have much in this world, but at least he had that.

“Mm-hmm.” The woman clacked away on her keyboard. “Any symptoms?”

“No.” Tony slid her his ID card. “I feel fine.”

“Chest pain,” Steve said.

“Okay. And have you been here before?”

Tony shook his head. “No.”

The woman glanced between the two of them. “Alright. And is this your alpha?”

Tony frowned. _Why does she think--?_ Oh. Right. He was covered in Steve’s scent _and_ wearing his clothes. The evidence wasn’t really stacked in his favor.

“Oh, uh, no—” Tony tugged on his sweater. The material suddenly felt too hot. _He’s just a friend_ , he wanted to add, but he never got the chance, because he was undercut by Steve’s much louder, much more insistent, “Yes.”

Which almost sent Tony into cardiac arrest all over again.

Because that was **_not_** okay.

Steve couldn’t just _say_ something like that.

Tony knew Steve had some misplaced school boy crush on him, but _this_ was taking things way too far.

“Okay,” the woman continued, completely oblivious to Tony’s brewing mental break down as she asked the one question guaranteed to make the situation even worse, “And are you pregnant or is there any chance you might be pregnant?”

Memories descending on him like a car crash, Tony froze.

Something raw and painful clenched inside him. He could feel his mind dragging him down into the dark place. Into that-which-he-did-not-think-about.

The beeping in the hospital grew louder.

He cut the thoughts off before they could overtake him. “No,” he rasped. “I’m not pregnant.”

And he never wanted to be again.

“Mm-hmm. Last question. Do you have any health concerns and are you on any current medication?”

“…Just suppressants,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Thank you.” The woman gave Tony’s ID card back to him. “Go have a seat. One of our doctors will be with you shortly.”

* * *

Tony held himself in check until they’d reached the back of the waiting area—it was less crowded there and offered up a modicum of privacy—before rounding on Steve incredulously, “Care to clue me in on what you were thinking back there, hotshot? Cause I’m _not_ your mate.”

The words had a greater effect than he’d anticipated.

Steve seemed to jerk back, mouth going slack, a wounded expression falling across his face before he was able to hide it. He took a few breaths as his throat worked on a particularly hard swallow. “You’ll get better medical attention if they think you’re with me,” he said defensively.

It was true. An unclaimed, disgraced omega would be regarded as the hospital’s lowest priority.

But that didn’t mean Tony had to like it. “That’s beside the point.”

“I won’t let them mistreat you.”

 _He isn’t getting it_. It was probably blowing his 18-year-old mind that Tony wasn’t acting like the generally accepted stereotype of a distressed omega. That he wasn’t throwing himself at Steve’s feet, begging for a chance to thank the alpha for saving him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony willed himself to count backwards from ten. His patience was tested even further when Steve nudged a chair at him.

“Here,” the teenager instructed. “You shouldn’t be standing. You need to rest.”

“I don’t _need_ to do anything.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest. Then he glared at Steve with the power of seven billion atoms—which was roughly the number of atoms it took to make up a single person—and stomped away, choosing to plunk himself down in a chair by the wall instead.

Steve barely hesitated before following after him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned—like it was his job to fix it.

“What’s wrong? _What’s wrong_?!” Tony exploded, no longer caring if he was making a scene. “YOU ARE, alright?! _You’re_ what’s wrong with me! Every time I turn around, you’re there! Stop breathing down my neck! Stop mollycoddling me! Stop pulling my goddamned chair out for me—I mean, who even _does_ that? Chivalry hasn’t been a thing since the 1800s!” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just…just back off, okay? I can take care of myself. I am not helpless.”

He enjoyed a split second of adrenaline, of the rush that came with getting something off his chest, before panic swiftly took hold of him.

Oh, fuck _._ _Fuckfuckfuckfuck_.

 _Now you’ve done it_ , Tony’s brain warned him, recalling how scary Steve had been when he’d gotten angry at the younger lifeguard. _You’ve finally gone and pushed him too far._

There weren’t too many alphas who’d let an omega yell at them like that. Especially not in public. If Tony had pulled that stunt on Obie, he would’ve been limping for a week.

He knew what happened next. What _always_ happened next.

Grim acceptance burned through him, turning his stomach sour. Quickly averting his gaze to the floor, Tony tried to draw his limbs in closer to his body. To prepare himself for the worst. For Steve to grab him. To maybe knock him around a little bit. To remind him of his place.

An excruciatingly long second passed by.

Then another.

Cheap metal creaked as the alpha hesitantly took a seat in one of the chairs near him. If Tony had been thinking clearly, he might’ve made note of how Steve had granted him space, choosing not to sit in the seat directly next to him, but Tony wasn’t and he didn’t.

“Go on, then,” Tony goaded bitterly, still lowering his head. “Get it over with already.”

Dead silence.

“I yelled at you in public,” Tony hissed. “I defied you. I am openly defying you as we speak. Do something about it. Get angry.”

Steve inhaled sharply. “You _want_ me to get angry?”

“Does it matter what I want?”

This time, Steve didn’t delay before answering. “Yeah,” he fired back with conviction. “It does matter. _You_ matter.”

It shouldn’t have been a novel concept, but Tony wasn’t used to being told that he mattered. Come to think of it, had he _ever_ been told that he mattered before? Chancing a glance at the alpha, he slowly raised his eyes. Instead of the cold, rageful sneer he’d find on Obie, he found the teenager staring at him like a confused, overly muscular puppy.

“Have I…” Steve started haltingly, “…have I made you feel like you don’t?”

 _No_. And that was part of the problem. He made Tony feel too good. Too unguarded. Like the rug was about to be pulled out from under him at any minute.

But he couldn’t admit to any of that so he stayed quiet.

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to mollycoddle you.” Steve shifted uncomfortably. “If I’ve been out of line…If I’ve been coming on too strong…I haven’t meant to. I know you’re not ready. I know you haven’t had good experiences, that I need to be patient. I’d say I can’t stop thinking about you, but I haven’t actually tried to stop. I don’t really want to. I’d promise to stay away, but…” He paused, his hand tightening into a fist before relaxing again. “…I don’t think I’m your only problem, Tony. I think there’s something else upsetting you.”

“You _know_ I haven’t had good experiences?” Tony repeated stiffly. That was a hot button. That was a don’t-ever-go-there button. “With all undue respect, no, you _don’t_ know. You don’t know anything.” _I’m the one who lived it, dammit. Who’s **still** living it._

“Then talk to me. Please. Help me understand.”

Okay, who _was_ this teenager, and how the hell was he so mature for his age? Tony knew 30-year-olds less emotionally developed than Steve was. In fact, in another few years, he’d be one. “I bet you’ve always had it easy, huh?” Irrationally, the more kindness Steve displayed, the more volatile Tony felt. “Tall, good looking, athletic…with a full ride to university and a mom and a brother that adore you…your life is white-picket-fence perfect. _You’re_ perfect.”

Steve made a noise like he disagreed. “I’m not perfect.”

“Don’t bother denying it. You can’t help that you won the genetic lottery. That everyone bends over backwards for you because you’re Mr. Alpha Wonderful. I bet you’ve never come across a single person in your entire life who’s disliked you. Who hasn’t wanted to hand you everything.” _You’ve never been made to feel like a victim. Never been made to feel helpless._

“You’d lose that bet,” Steve said, after a moment of shocked stillness. “I got my ass kicked all the time when I was younger. And trust me, almost nobody liked me.”

“Yeah, right…” Tony scoffed. “You got beat up? _You?_ I don’t see how that’s possible. You’re built like The Terminator. Only, you know, less Austrian and with a better bone structure.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth quirked up at Tony’s comment before turning serious again. “I didn’t always look like this,” he admitted. “Things used to be…well, I’ll be honest…they used to be pretty rough. I was born with a bad case of asthma and a weak immune system. The doctors hadn’t expected me to live very long. They’d warned my parents that I was going to die almost every other day. I was allergic to everything, on a hundred different medications. I'd end up bedridden from something as simple as getting a head cold…and I was small. Smaller than all the other kids my age.” Giving his head a slight shake like he was bringing himself back from the past, he continued, “Presenting as an alpha saved me. My health problems seemed to vanish overnight. But I’ll never forget where I came from. Or how unbelievably fortunate I am.” Adding heavily, “Or how damned easily it could all be taken away.”

 _Well, shit_. Tony gaped, trying not to stare at him.

It all made sense now. How Steve sometimes seemed so much older than his 18 years. Why he was unflinchingly patient for an alpha. How he was so sympathetic and supportive of omegas. Suffering did that to kids. It made them grow up way too fast; opened their eyes to the things most people never had to think about.

Tony had suffered too. But, unlike Steve, he didn’t think he’d become a better person for it. He felt bitter and broken. Like something vital had been damaged inside of him.

Regret weighed down on him. He’d been an asshole. The biggest of assholes. Nay, the _crown prince_ of assholes. He’d been taking his feelings of inadequacy over what Brock had done to him out on the teenager. But, god, he’d had Steve so wrong.

Tony hated when people made snap judgements about him based on his omega status, but here he was doing the same thing to Steve. He was a giant hypocrite. He’d written the teenager off from the moment they’d met; had labeled him as an alpha jock and had assumed the worst. He hadn’t even been willing to give Steve a chance…

Something else occurred to him. “That was you in the picture…” he murmured, recalling the family portraits he’d seen at Steve’s house.

“What picture?”

“That photo of you, the one hanging over your hall table. I never…I didn’t realize it was you at the time…”

“Oh. Yeah. That was me.” Steve looked down at his hands. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

Tony didn’t like how the usually confident alpha sounded so insecure. It made something fierce and protective clamor awake inside him. Which was weird as hell, because he’d never felt the need to _protect_ an alpha before. “I don’t think ‘pathetic’ is a word anyone could ever use to describe you,” he denied strongly, and it made Steve look at him with such gratitude that he had to fight not to flush. “All those things I said to you two minutes ago? Forget I said them. They were never said. I was being a dickhead.”

“You weren’t a dickhead.” Seeing Tony’s disbelieving face, he amended, “Alright, maybe a little. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I can thank dear old dad for that specific trait. ‘Bout the only thing he ever gave me. Sure wasn’t his height. I regrettably missed the coupon for free growth spurts when they were handing them out in the womb. So, I’m pretty much stuck like this.”

“I wouldn’t want you to change,” Steve said, dropping his voice lower. “I like you like this.”

Christ. Tony could practically feel the hardened shell around his heart cracking. “Right. Sure. That’s nice of you to say and all, but it doesn’t really do me any good.” He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure what possessed him to say what he said next. “ _I_ don’t like it. I’d go so far as to say I hate it. I was useless today. I was a joke to those betas. A plaything. And I…I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I never can. If you hadn’t shown up…”

“I would **never** let anything happen to you,” Steve interjected roughly. “You know that, right?”

“I appreciate the sentiment, tough guy, but you can’t make a promise like that.”

“I can.” Steve set his jaw like he could keep Tony safe through sheer determination of will alone.

Tony could almost believe him. “Even if that’s true, it’s not enough. I don’t want to _need_ protecting. I want to be more than this. More than the perpetual omega in distress. When I think about how different my life could’ve been if I’d never presented as an omega, I…” He didn’t know how much more of this shit he could take. It was like there was nothing left of him to tear down. He was already done. Already defeated.

Steve’s brow tightened like he was personally offended. Like he was the #1 member of the Tony Stark Fanclub and it was his job to defend Tony’s honor. “You shouldn’t spend so much time wishing to be something else. You’re amazing, Tony. The things you can create. The things you do. You’re smart as hell. It intimidates me, sometimes, how smart you are. I feel like a bonehead next to you. Talking to you is kinda like going three rounds in a boxing ring but that’s why I like it. You ripped that woman in the park a new one when she came after Bucky, and you just told me off in front of the entire hospital. You’re hardly what I’d call an omega in distress.”

Normally, Tony would’ve slipped back into his sarcastic armor. Would’ve made some cutting remark about valedictorians and Steve’s ability to give a hell of a speech.

But he couldn’t.

And he knew right then and there that this barely legal man-boy was going to ruin him.

Because if Steve had kissed him right then, he never would’ve found the strength to pull away.

“Anthony Edward Stark?” a woman holding a clipboard called out, breaking through whatever spell Tony had fallen under. “The doctor will see you now.”

* * *

After a long series of tests to check his lungs, heart, and cognitive functions, Tony was given a clean bill of health and released from the hospital.

His skin had crawled when he’d seen that the main doctor was a beta male—male doctors had a habit of getting too handsy and asking wildly invasive questions, and that was talking best case scenario—but the man had been nothing but professional.

Tony had known that being perceived as Steve’s omega would affect how the hospital staff dealt with him, but he was embittered by just how much. For once in what felt like forever, he hadn’t been treated like he was invisible or like he was a piece of human garbage. They hadn’t even mentioned the fact that he was disgraced. And when it’d come time to pay the bill, he’d been informed that his alpha had already taken care of it.

Under any other circumstances, it would’ve set him off again. But by that point he’d been so exhausted that he’d found himself going along with it. ‘Cause apparently letting a teenager pay his bills for him was the kind of person he was now. _This_ is what his life had come to.

He’d worry about paying Steve back later. And sadly not in the fun way.

Night had fallen and the events of the day were fast catching up to him. Fatigue had taken over and his body was starting to crash hard. He usually had trouble sleeping but tonight he’d be lucky if he made it to his mattress before collapsing. As it was, he was dangerously close to falling asleep in Steve’s car.

A ringing phone jerked him back to wakefulness. Fumbling as he pulled it from his pocket, he lifted it to his ear. “Yeah?” he asked, fighting a yawn.

“Tony, dear? It’s Zoya.” Nat’s mother. “Are you alright? Your friend Darcy told me what happened.”

“I’m fine. All good,” he gave his patent response. “Just got done with the hospital. I’m headed home now.”

“I’m sorry to call so late but Natasha has been worried sick. She’s been refusing to go to sleep and keeps asking about you. If I pass the phone to her, will you speak to her and let her know you’re alright?”

Nat was worried about him? “Uh, sure. Yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you.”

The phone rustled before Nat came over the line. “Nanny Tony?” she said in a small voice.

“Hey kiddo,” he forced himself to sound cheerful. “How’s my favorite mermaid doing?”

“I don’t like mermaids anymore.”

“You don’t? Whoa, when did this happen?”

More rustling and a sniffle. “If I was a real mermaid, I could have saved you.”

He faltered, his grip tightening around the phone. _Shit_. Hearing that had hurt. “It’s okay, pumpkin. Nothing bad happened to me. That’s what we have lifeguards for. And why we never swim in the deep end.” Trying to lighten the mood, he changed the subject. “I could use your help tomorrow morning though. I want to make our special stackable chocolate chip and raspberry waffles. You in?”

The sugary bribe failed to produce its usual results. Instead of reacting with enthusiasm, her responding, “...Promise?” was still quiet and withdrawn. “You’ll really be here in the mornin’?”

“Promise. Every morning from Monday to Friday. You can’t get rid of me.”

He overheard Zoya’s voice in the background informing Nat that it was bedtime. Nat protested for a while (“Natasha, please tell Nanny Tony goodnight. You can’t keep him on the phone.” “No!”) before finally giving into her mother’s demands. With a teary farewell she wished him goodnight and disconnected the call.

Lowering the phone from his ear, Tony stared down at it. It was bothering him that Natasha hadn’t acted like herself.

Steve seemed to pick up on Tony’s quiet contemplation. “She really cares about you.”

He cared about her too. He was getting way too attached to the little menace.

“She tried to go in the water after you,” Steve continued solemnly. “That older kid, Bruce, stopped her. He was yelling for help.”

A bolt of horror ripped through Tony.

She’d tried to jump into the water after him?

_No. God, Natasha. No._

Jesus, she could’ve drowned. She didn’t know how to swim in the deep end yet. Thank god Bruce had stopped her.

It was one thing for Tony’s inadequacies and his fear of the water to put himself at risk, but now his weakness had almost gotten Nat hurt.

Another awful thought occurred to him. What if _he_ hadn’t been the one in trouble? What if Brock had thrown one of the kids in the deep end instead?

Tony wouldn’t have been able to save them.

How would it feel to watch Bruce or Natasha drown in front of him? To be unable to help?

“Alright,” Tony made a clear-cut decision. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” Steve shifted his eyes to Tony before flicking them back to the road.

“If the offer is still on the table…I’d like to take you up on it. I want you to teach me to swim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi *waves* I don’t know if anyone is still reading this but if you are, I am sorry for the super long hiatus. Feel free to throw rotten fruits at me in the comments.  
> 


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